Vampire Blood & Devilish Owls: Old Polish Death Customs & Superstitions
In Polish culture of yore, death was inextricably linked to life – its encroaching creep could be found in the natural world and in numerous signs and symbols.
The first study dedicated to old Polish funeral culture was Adam Fischer’s Zwyczaje Pogrzebowe Ludu Polskiego (Funeral Customs of the Polish People). Fischer, a talented ethnologist and folklorist (1889-1943), created his pioneering work based on collections of ‘printed and written materials’ in Lviv, published for the first time in 1921 by the National Ossoliński Institute. Later researchers of regional funeral traditions and death superstitions drew in large part from his work. What can we glean about 10th and 11th century customs from this eponymous text and others?
Death in older customs was intertwined with magic, which Fischer underlined in one of the first subsections of his work:
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The primitive mind is convinced that a person only dies because someone has brought upon death with invisible magic. (…) Very often death is not ascribed to a violent event, but a mystical magic touch.
The spectre of death materialised in the form of animals: in the original texts, we can find death in the form of a white goose, or a large black dog. A prophetic death dream included a white steed pulling a cart of manure. Such an interpretation of dreams is found in Zwyczaje Pogrzebowe Ludu Polskiego as well as a more modern book, Śmierć Jako Wydarzenie Eschatyczne (Death as an Eschatological Event) by Dr. Zdzisław Kupisiński – the result of eschatological studies in the Opoczno and Radom regions.
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'Italian Cemetery at Dusk' by Adam Chmielowski (Saint Albert), 1880, oil on canvas, 79 x 143 cm, photo: National Museum in Kraków
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Birds were another strong indicator of death. As Fischer wrote, ‘the bird was the original source for all fantasies of deities and the secret strength of the gods’. The owl was considered Satan’s personal envoy, as its nocturnal habits distressed the local population. Fischer continued:
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The people’s imagination covered the owl with an evil and demonic aureole. The owl is an envoy of death, and its calls are the laugh of the devil.
Owls, active at a time when most are asleep, were considered a link between the world of the living and dead. Other bad omens included swallows swooping into the house, or birds knocking into the window. In Death as an Eschatological Event, we read:
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It would sometimes happen that the lady of the house, wanting to prevent bad luck, ran out onto the front yard to chase away birds so they couldn’t crow out any evil.
Next to birds, the category of animals most associated with death were domesticated ones, those that were the most emotionally connected to people: it was believed that dogs, horses and cows had intrinsic psychic abilities and their behaviour was closely monitored, looking for any dark fortune-telling or a connection to the dead. For example, it was believed that the funeral carriage should not be pulled by the deceased owner’s horses, as they would spook at the sight of his ghost.
The natural world of flora also held signs of death: a fallen tree or swiftly wilting flowers were bad omens. A whistling wind was attributed to the crying souls of those who had committed suicide. Interestingly, a falling star, which is now something associated with fulfilling wishes, used to be a symbol of impending death. A star was connected to a person’s soul: ‘Each person has their own star, which shows up the day of their birth, and falls in the hour of death’ (Fischer).
The secret life of objects
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Partial view of a necropolis, Tarnów, ca. 1910–1939, photo: K. Kowalczyk / National Digital Archive
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Bad omens lived alongside the family domicile as well: bad signs included porcelain and glass seemingly breaking on their own, the hands of a clock suddenly stopping, a candle going out or paintings falling off the walls. Most strange sounds were treated with fear: miscellaneous muttering, creaking and knocking were signs of visitors from beyond the earthly realm.
It was important to bury the deceased with significant personal items (the exception being expensive items, like men’s straight razors – these were kept at home for further use) – including certain vices like cigarettes, alcohol or tobacco, so that the ghost would not return after the funeral, looking for what was theirs. In Death as an Eschatological Event, the author notes:
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Some men, even during their life, made clear their wishes to be placed in the casket with a small bottle of vodka, so they ‘didn’t feel any cravings’ or so that ‘they could toast with their friends who had joined the path to infinity before them.’
A ghost could also return in nightmares, such as when it was unhappy with its funeral outfit (it was important to follow the dying’s requests to the letter). No less important was making sure the specially sewn funeral shirt was not knotted off at the end: a knot was somewhere sins could collect, stopping the soul from ascending into heaven. Everything was done to ensure the deceased had an easy death, and the soul an easier time leaving the body.
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'Peasant Coffin' by Aleksander Gierymski, 1894, photo: National Museum in Warsaw
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The carriage holding the casket was ritually stopped on the journey (three times) so that the deceased’s soul wouldn’t be left behind at home or on the journey. Otherwise, ‘the soul would have to chase after the cadaver’ (Kupisiński). The custom was to wait three days from the time of death until the burial, guarding the body, but the soul’s departure didn’t occur until after the burial ceremony. Until then, housework was suspended so as not to upset the spirit or – God forbid – to step on a broom or knock into something. The so-called leader of the funeral checked if the soul had left by lifting a mirror to the lips, since the soul could be seen by any fogging on the mirror’s surface.
Some sources noted that loud and ostentatious lamentations were in poor taste (the Upper Silesia region was studied by Krystyna Turek, among others) – the sorrow of their loved one’s would make the soul’s passing more difficult. There was also a belief that after death, the soul would be weighed down with a pitcher of tears shed by their loved ones – that was usually the reason behind halting sorrow. The soul’s passing could also be eased by opening windows, doors, chimneys, the bread oven as well as all manners of drawers and trunks, and even sometimes partially ripping off the roof. As Fischer noted:
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The Proto-Slavic home had a small hole next to the sky-light – for the soul.
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All Soul's Day, Cieszyn Silesia, women in regional costumes on the way to a cemetery, ca. 1920-1939, photo: National Digital Archive
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Other practices meant to ‘shorten the agony’ of the dying included a superstition about the negative effects of chicken down: the suffering party should have the pillow removed from under their head if it contained the wrong stuffing. The dying person was sometimes taken off their bed and placed on the ground to move them closer to ‘the land of shadows’. Shadows in general were another sign of death, linking the world of the living and dead: changes in shadows were seen as a sign of impending death. One superstition stated that a person who, on Christmas Eve, turns around and doesn’t see their shadow would soon die.
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'Death Appeases Everyone' by Marian Wawrzeniecki, oil on canvas, 1898, photo: National Museum in Kraków
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After death came the concern of the deceased returning as a vampire. It was thought that certain people had an inclination for vampirism if, during life, they had suspiciously rosy cheeks (full of blood) or behaved erratically and violently. Until the end of the 19th century, Polish villages would undergo ‘anti-vampire treatments’: if the populace decided that a vampire was around (plucking off further members of the family), a secret – due to its illegality – and brutal execution was carried out with a spade.
Reverend Jan Perszon, who based his book Na Brzegu Życia i Śmierci (On the Brink of Life and Death) on field studies of funeral culture in the Kaszubian region, wrote that even ‘in the 19th century there were at least a few cases of legal action against people who had disturbed buried bodies, which resulted in a multi-year jail sentence’.
Before resorting to the most radical solution, one could also protect themselves by a collection of practices stopping the return of the ‘living dead’: next to the deceased’s personal items, others were added including a brick {which would weigh the dead down), a net (the dead would have to untangle it) or poppy seeds (which would have to be counted). Also, a coin was placed in the deceased’s mouth to distract it and to halt its return. Standing vigil by the dead body, besides its religious importance (people could say goodbye to their loved one or pray for their soul), also had an anti-vampiric angle to it: whoever stood vigil could, through careful observation, ascertain whether there were any disturbing signs.
Sometimes, the blood of the dead ‘vampire’ was added to… his relative’s coffee or tea, to ‘protect against any other vampires’. According to Fischer, these practices occurred until the 19th century.
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Guardian angel and angel of death lifting a soul up to heaven, Jan Styfi, woodcarving, 1865, photo: National Library / Polona.pl
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As Krystyna Turek noted in Ludowe Zwyczaje, Obrzędy i Pieśni Pogrzebowe na Górnym Śląsku (Polish Customs, Traditions and Funeral Songs in Upper Silesia), there were numerous attempts at ensuring a first death wouldn’t drag others along with it: many magical treatments were designed to stop the deceased’s soul from stealing away others. These practices were not specific to Upper Silesia, but – according to Fischer – existed across the country. That’s why the dead’s eyes are closed (so they can’t ‘eye someone to go with them’), and if the eyelids didn’t want to close, weighted coins were placed on each one. The chin was also tied shut, so the dead couldn’t ‘call someone down’.
If someone heard the dead’s call at night, they had to wake everyone in the house. In the Proto-Slavic world, dreams and the underworld had a mysterious connection, and there was a risk that a sleeping soul could be dragged down. At the moment of death, all the mirrors and reflective surfaces were covered with cloth – seeing the soul of the dead in a reflection would bring upon the seer a powerful curse.
People also avoided looking at a funeral procession through a window or walking in front of a procession – here, the risk was that the dead would ‘pull’ you in the afterlife. When the head of the house died, the cattle were informed of his death – as were the bees, by gently knocking on the wood of the bee hive and letting them know, so they wouldn’t follow their owner’s soul.
Love & fear
In ancient beliefs, a dying relative brought worry to the household, and his death brought grief, but it was his return from the grave that filled everyone with fear. This dual-sided emotion can be seen in the after-death vigil. The water used to clean a cadaver contained magical properties – both deadly and healing. Pouring the water onto your own shadow would bring about your own death. Other beliefs praised the water’s healing qualities: it was used on skin injuries, warts, verrucae and abscesses.
These traditions were brought down through the years and observed until the mid-20th century, while in some places they went until the 1980s. Fischer’s pioneering work, together with later works – which also made use of the ethnologist’s work, but included other sources as well as contemporary field research – bring us closer to the disappearing rituals and superstitions that teach us of the strong presence of death in everyday life.
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Cemetery in Powązki, Frinotów family grave, 1932, photo: National Digital Archive
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In the present day, the most meaningful change in customs is the ‘removal’ of death from the home – earlier, dying was a group experience, affecting every aspect of home life. The key ritual was a series of magical practices, which would relieve the dying of their agony, and the living of their fear. ‘Death doesn’t scare the people, because they resign themselves to it’, wrote Fischer. With certainty, the end of life was not a moment of ending, but a new opening for the soul.
Originally written in Polish, 29 Oct 2018; translated by AZ, Oct 2019
Want to learn more about the origins of Slavic vampires? Check out the book With Stake and Spade: Vampiric Diversity in Poland, available to purchase here.
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