The Slavonic belief in vampires is one of the characteristic features of their creed.

The Little Russians hold that, if the vampire’s hands have grown numb from remaining long crossed in the grave, he makes use of his teeth, which are like steel. When he has gnawed his way with these through all obstacles, he first destroys the babies he finds in a house, and afterwards the older inmates. If fine salt be scattered on the floor of a room, the vampire’s footsteps may be traced to his grave, in which he will be found resting with rosy cheek and gory mouth.

The Kashoubes say that when a vieszcy, as they call a vampire, wakes from his sleep within the grave he begins to gnaw his hands and feet, and as he gnaws, first his relatives, and then his neighbours, sicken and die. When he has finished his own store of flesh, he rises at midnight and destroys cattle or climbs a belfry and sounds the bell. All who hear the ill-omened tones will soon die. Generally he sucks the blood of sleepers.

Ralston, in his Songs of the Russian People, says that it is in the Ukraine and in White Russia—so far as the Russian Empire is concerned—that traditions are most rife about this ghastly creation of morbid fancy, and that the Little Russians attribute the birth of a vampire to an unholy union between a witch and a werwolf or a devil.

He relates the following as a specimen of the vampire stories prevalent in the country:—

“A peasant was driving past a graveyard after it had grown dark. After him came running a stranger, dressed in a red shirt and a new jacket, who said: ‘Stop! Take me as your companion.’

“‘Pray take a seat.’

“They enter a village, drive up to this and that house. Though the gates are wide open, yet the stranger says, ‘Shut tight!’ for on those gates crosses have been branded. They drive on to the very last house: the gates are barred, and from them hangs a padlock weighing a score of pounds; but there is no cross there, and the gates open of their own accord.

“They go into the house: there on the bench lie two sleepers—an old man and a lad. The stranger takes a pail, places it near the youth, and strikes him on the back; immediately the back opens, and forth flows rosy blood. The stranger fills the pail full and drinks it dry. Then he fills another pail with blood from the old man, slakes his brutal thirst, and says to the peasant: ‘It begins to grow light! Let us go back to my dwelling.’

“In a twinkling they find themselves at the graveyard. The vampire would have clasped the peasant in his arms, but luckily for him the cocks begin to crow, and the corpse disappears. The next morning, when folks come and look, the old man and the lad are dead.”

According to the Servians and Bulgarians, unclean spirits enter into the corpses of malefactors and other evilly disposed persons, who then become vampires. In some places the jumping of a boy over the corpse is considered as fatal as that of a cat.

There is a story told of a mother who lived in Saratof who cursed her son, and his body remained free from corruption after burial for a hundred years. When it was disinterred, his aged mother, who is said to have been still alive, pronounced his pardon, and, at that very moment, the corpse crumbled into dust.

The Russians say that, when driving a stake into the body of a vampire, this must be done by one single blow, as a second blow will reanimate the corpse.

One group of Russian stories relate to the sudden resuscitation shortly after death of wizards and witches at midnight possessed with the longing to eat the flesh of the watchers around the bier. The stories go that the body of the suspected witch was generally enclosed in a coffin which was secured with iron bands and carried to the church, and a watcher was appointed to read aloud from the Scriptures over the coffin right through each night until burial. It was also the duty of the watcher to draw on the floor a magic circle, within which he must stand and hold in his hand a hammer, the ancient weapon of the thunder-god. If the suspicion that the individual was a wizard or witch was a correct one, a mighty wind would arise one night about twelve o’clock, the iron bands of the coffin would give way with a terrible crash, the coffin-lid fall off, and the corpse leap forth and, uttering a terrible screech, rush at the watcher, who, if he had not taken the prescribed precautions, would fall a victim to the monster, and in the morning there would be nothing left of him but his bare bones. The following story of this character is contained in the records of the Kharkof government:—

“Once, in the days of old, there died a terrible sinner. His body was taken into the church, and the sacristan was told to read some psalms over him. He took the precaution to catch a cock and carry it with him to the church. At midnight the dead man leaped from his coffin, opened wide his jaws, and rushed at his victim; but, at that moment, the sacristan gave the bird a hard pinch. The cock uttered his usual crow, and at the same moment the dead man fell backwards to the ground a numb, motionless corpse.”

The following story is also given by Ralston in his collection of Russian folk-stories:—

The Coffin Lid

“A moujik was driving along one night with a load of pots. His horse grew tired, and all of a sudden it came to a standstill alongside of a graveyard. The moujik unharnessed his horse and set it free to graze; meanwhile he laid himself down on one of the graves. But somehow he didn’t go to sleep.

“He remained there some time. Suddenly the grave began to open beneath him; he felt the movement and sprang to his feet. The grave having opened, out of it came a corpse, wrapped in a white shroud, and holding a coffin lid. He ran to the church, laid the coffin lid at the door, and then set off for the village.

“The moujik was a daring fellow. He picked up the coffin lid and remained standing beside his cart, waiting to see what would happen. After a short delay the dead man came back, and was going to snatch up his coffin lid—but it was not to be seen. Then the corpse began to track it out, traced it up to the moujik, and said: ‘Give me my lid; if you don’t, I’ll tear you to bits!’

“‘And my hatchet—how about that?’ answered the moujik. ‘Why, it’s I who’ll be chopping you into small pieces!’

“‘Do give it back to me, good man!’ begs the corpse.

“‘I’ll give it when you tell me where you’ve been and what you’ve done.’

“‘Well, I’ve been in the village, and there I’ve killed a couple of youngsters.’

“‘Well, then, tell me how they can be brought back to life.’

“The corpse reluctantly made answer: ‘Cut off the left skirt of my shroud. Take it with you, and when you come into the house where the youngsters were killed, pour some live coals into a pot and put the piece of the shroud in with them, and then lock the door. The lads will be revived by the smoke immediately.’

“The moujik cut off the left skirt of the shroud and gave up the coffin lid. The corpse went to its grave—the grave opened. But just as the dead man was descending into it, all of a sudden the cocks began to crow, and he had not time to get properly covered over. One end of the coffin lid remained standing out of the ground.

“The moujik saw all this and made a note of it. The day began to dawn; he harnessed his horse and drove into the village. In one of the houses he heard cries and wailing. In he went—there lay two dead lads.

“‘Don’t cry,’ said he; ‘I can bring them to life.’

“‘Do bring them to life, kinsman,’ said their relatives. ‘We’ll give you half of all we possess.’

“The moujik did everything as the corpse had instructed him, and the lads came back to life. Their relatives were delighted, but they immediately seized the moujik and bound him with cords, saying: ‘No, no, trickster! We’ll hand you over to the authorities. Since you know how to bring them back to life, maybe it was you who killed them!’

“‘What are you thinking about, true believers? Have the fear of God before your eyes!’ cried the moujik.

“Then he told them everything that had happened to him during the night. Well, they spread the news through the village, and the whole population assembled and stormed into the graveyard. They found the grave from which the dead man had come out; they tore it open, and they drove an aspen stake right into the heart of the corpse, so that it might no more rise up and slay. But they rewarded the moujik handsomely, and sent him home with great honour.”

The Soldier and the Vampire

“A certain soldier was allowed to go home on furlough. Well, he walked and walked and walked, and after a time he began to draw near to his native village. Not far off from that village lived a miller in his mill. In old times, the soldier had been very intimate with him: why shouldn’t he go and see his friend? He went. The miller received him cordially, and at once brought out liquor; and the two began drinking and chattering about their ways and doings. All this took place towards nightfall, and the soldier stopped so long at the miller’s that it grew quite dark.

“When he proposed to start for his village, his host exclaimed: ‘Spend the night here, trooper; it is very late now, and perhaps you may run into mischief.’

“‘How so?’

“‘God is punishing us! A terrible warlock has died among us, and by night he rises from his grave, wanders through the village, and does such things as bring fear upon the very bailiffs; and so how could you help being afraid of him?’

“‘Not a bit of it! A soldier is a man who belongs to the Crown, and Crown property cannot be drowned in water or burned in fire. I will be off. I am tremendously anxious to see my people as soon as possible.’

“Off he set. His road lay in front of a graveyard. On one of the graves he saw a great fire blazing. What is that? Then he said: ‘Let’s have a look.’ When he drew near, he saw that the warlock was sitting at the fire, sewing boots.

“‘Hail, brother!’ calls out the soldier.

“The warlock looked up and said: ‘What have you come here for?’

“‘Why, I wanted to see what you were doing.’

“The warlock threw his work aside and invited the soldier to a wedding.

“‘Come along, brother,’ says he; ‘let’s enjoy ourselves. There is a wedding going on in the village.’

“‘Come along,’ says the soldier.

“They came to where the wedding was; they were given drink, and treated with the utmost hospitality. The warlock drank and drank, revelled and revelled, and then grew angry. He chased all the guests and relatives out of the house, threw the wedded pair into a slumber, took out two phials and an awl, pierced the hands of the bride and bridegroom with the awl, and began drawing off their blood. Having done this, he said to the soldier: ‘Now, let’s be off.’

“Accordingly, they went off. On the way the soldier said: ‘Tell me, why did you draw off their blood in those phials?’

“‘Why, in order that the bride and bridegroom might die. To-morrow morning no one will be able to wake them. I alone know how to bring them back to life.’

“‘How’s that managed?’

“‘The bride and bridegroom must have cuts made in their heels, and some of their blood must then be poured back into these wounds. I’ve got the bridegroom’s blood stowed away in my right-hand pocket, and the bride’s in my left.’

“The soldier listened to this without letting a single word escape him. Then the warlock began boasting again.

“‘Whatever I wish,’ says he, ‘that I can do.’

“‘I suppose it’s quite impossible to get the better of you,’ says the soldier.

“‘Impossible? If anyone were to make a pyre of aspen boughs, a hundred loads of them, and were to burn me on that pyre, then he’d be able to get the better of me. Only he’d have to look sharp in burning me, for snakes and worms and different kinds of reptiles would creep out of my inside, and crows and magpies and jackdaws would come flying up. All these must be caught and flung on the pyre. If so much as a single maggot were to escape, then there’d be no help for it. In that maggot I should slip away.’

“The soldier listened to all this and did not forget it. He and the warlock talked and talked, and at last they arrived at the grave.

“‘Well, brother,’ said the warlock, ‘now I’ll tear you to pieces, otherwise you’ll be telling all this.’

“‘What are you talking about? Don’t you deceive yourself, for I serve God and the Empire.’

“The warlock gnashed his teeth, howled aloud, and sprang at the soldier, who drew his sword and began laying about him with sweeping blows. They struggled and struggled; the soldier was all but at the end of his strength. ‘Ah,’ thinks he, ‘I’m a lost man, and all for nothing!’ Suddenly the cocks began to crow. The warlock fell lifeless to the ground.

“The soldier took the phials of blood out of the warlock’s pockets, and went to the house of his own people. When he had got there and exchanged greetings with his relatives, they said: ‘Did you see any disturbance, soldier?’

“‘No, I saw none.’

“‘There, now! Why, we’ve a terrible piece of work going on in the village. A warlock has taken to haunting it.’

“After talking a while they lay down to sleep. The next morning the soldier awoke and began asking: ‘I’m told you’ve got a wedding going on somewhere here.’

“‘There was a wedding in the house of a rich moujik,’ replied his relatives, ‘but the bridegroom has died this very night—what from nobody knows.’

“‘Where does this moujik live?’

“They showed him the house. Thither he went without speaking a word. When he got there he found the whole family in tears.

“‘What are you mourning about?’ says he.

“‘Such and such is the state of things, soldier,’ say they.

“‘I can bring your young people to life again. What will you give me if I do?’

“‘Take what you like, even were it half of what we have got.’

“The soldier did as the warlock had instructed him, and brought the young people back to life. Instead of weeping there began to be happiness and rejoicing: the soldier was hospitably treated and well rewarded. Then—left about face! Off he marched to Starosta and told the burgomaster to call the peasants together and to get ready a hundred loads of aspen wood. Well, they took the wood into the graveyard, dragged the warlock out of his grave, placed him on the pyre, and set it in flames. The warlock began to burn. His corpse burst, and out of it came snakes, worms, and all kinds of reptiles, and up came flying crows, magpies, and jackdaws. The peasants knocked them down and flung them into the fire, not allowing so much as a single maggot to creep away! And so the warlock was thoroughly consumed, and the soldier collected his ashes and strewed them to the winds. From that time there was peace in the village.

“The soldier received the thanks of the whole community.”

In Russian folk-lore there is a class of demons known as “heart devourers,” who touch their victim with an aspen or other twig credited with magical properties; the heart then falls out and may be replaced by some baser one. There is a Moscovian story in which a hero awakes with the heart of a hare, the work of a demon while the man was asleep. He remained a coward for the rest of his life. In another instance a very quiet, reserved, inoffensive peasant received a cock’s heart in exchange for his own, and afterwards was for ever crowing like a healthy bird.

The following is taken from the Lettres Juives of 1738:—

“In the beginning of September there died in the village of Kisilova, three leagues from Graditz, an old man who was sixty-two years of age. Three days after he had been buried, he appeared in the night to his son, and asked him for something to eat; the son having given him something, he ate and disappeared. The next day the son recounted to his neighbours what had happened. That night the father did not appear, but the following night he showed himself and asked for something to eat. They know not whether the son gave him anything or not; but the next day he was found dead in his bed. On the same day, five or six persons fell suddenly ill in the village, and died one after the other in a few days.

“The officer or bailiff of the place, when informed of what had happened, sent an account of it to the tribunal of Belgrade, which despatched to the village two of these officers and an executioner to examine into this affair. The imperial officer from whom we have this account repaired thither from Graditz to be a witness of what took place.

“They opened the graves of those who had been dead six weeks. When they came to that of the old man, they found him with his eyes open, having a fine colour, with natural respiration, nevertheless motionless as the dead: whence they concluded that he was most undoubtedly a vampire. The executioner drove a stake into his heart; they then raised a pile and reduced the corpse to ashes. No mark of vampirism was found either on the corpse of the son or on the others.”

The following story is told by Madame Blavatsky in Isis Unveiled, who states that she had the account from an eye-witness of the occurrence:—

“About the beginning of the nineteenth century there occurred in Russia one of the most frightful cases of vampirism on record. The governor of the province of Tch—— was a man of about sixty years of age, of a cruel and jealous disposition. Clothed with despotic authority, he exercised it without stint, as his brutal instincts prompted. He fell in love with the pretty daughter of a subordinate officer. Although the girl was betrothed to a young man whom she loved, the tyrant forced her father to consent to his having her marry him; and the poor victim, despite her despair, became his wife. His jealous disposition soon exhibited itself. He beat her, confined her to her room for weeks together, and prevented her seeing anyone except in his presence. He finally fell sick and died. Finding his end approaching, he made her swear never to marry again, and with fearful oaths threatened that in case she did he would return from his grave and kill her. He was buried in the cemetery across the river, and the young widow experienced no further annoyance until, getting the better of her fears, she listened to the importunities of her former lover, and they were again betrothed.

“On the night of the customary betrothal feast, when all had retired, the old mansion was aroused by shrieks proceeding from her room. The doors were burst open, and the unhappy woman was found lying on her bed in a swoon. At the same time a carriage was heard rumbling out of the courtyard. Her body was found to be black and blue in places, as from the effect of pinches, and from a slight puncture in her neck drops of blood were oozing. Upon recovering, she stated that her deceased husband had suddenly entered her room, appearing exactly as in life, with the exception of a dreadful pallor; that he had upbraided her for her inconstancy, and then beaten and pinched her most cruelly. Her story was disbelieved; but the next morning the guard stationed at the other end of the bridge which spans the river reported that just before midnight a black coach-and-six had driven furiously past without answering their challenge.

“The new governor, who disbelieved the story of the apparition, took nevertheless the precaution of doubling the guards across the bridge. The same thing happened, however, night after night, the soldiers declaring that the toll-bar at their station near the bridge would rise of itself, and the spectral equipage would sweep past them, despite their efforts to stop it. At the same time every night the watchers, including the widow’s family and the servants, would be thrown into a heavy sleep; and every morning the young victim would be found bruised, bleeding, and swooning as before. The town was thrown into consternation. The physicians had no explanations to offer; priests came to pass the night in prayer, but as midnight approached, all would be seized with the same terrible lethargy. Finally the archbishop of the province came and performed the ceremony of exorcism in person. On the following morning the governor’s widow was found worse than ever. She was now brought to death’s door.

“The governor was finally driven to take the severest measures to stop the ever-increasing panic in the town. He stationed fifty Cossacks along the bridge, with orders to stop the spectral carriage at all hazards. Promptly at the usual hour it was heard and seen approaching from the direction of the cemetery. The officer of the guard and a priest bearing a crucifix planted themselves in front of the toll-bar and together shouted: ‘In the name of God and the Czar, who goes there?’ Out of the coach was thrust a well-remembered head, and a familiar voice responded: ‘The Privy Councillor of State and Governor C——!’ At the same moment the officer, the priest, and the soldiers were flung aside, as by an electric shock, and the ghostly equipage passed them before they could recover breath.

“The archbishop then resolved as a last expedient to resort to the time-honoured plan of exhuming the body and driving an oaken stake through its heart. This was done with great religious ceremony in the presence of the whole populace. The story is that the body was found gorged with blood, and with red cheeks and lips. At the instant that the first blow was struck upon the stake a groan issued from the corpse and a jet of blood spouted high into the air. The archbishop pronounced the usual exorcism, the body was reinterred, and from that time no more was heard of the vampire.”