opened, when the bodies are found entire and
uncorrupted; that they are then cut up into
little bits, particularly the heart; and that,
after this, the apparitions are seen no more,
and the body decays.

The word Brucolac, we are told, is derived
from two modern Greek words, signifying,
respectively, "mud," and "a ditch," because
the graves of the Vampyres were generally
found full of mud. Voltaire, in the article
on Vampyres in his Philosophical Dictionary,
gives a similar account of these spectres. He
observes, in his exquisite, bantering style:
"These dead Greeks enter houses, and suck
the blood of little children; eating the
suppers of the fathers and mothers, drinking their
wine, and breaking all the furniture. They
can be brought to reason only by being
burnt—when they are caught; but the
precaution must be taken not to resort to this
measure until the heart has been torn out,
as that must be consumed apart from the
body." What a weight of meaning and
implied satire is there in that phrase, "They
can be brought to reason only by being
burnt!" It is a comment upon universal
history.

Pierre Daniel Huet, a French writer of
Ana, who died in seventeen hundred and
twenty-one, says, that it is certain that the
idea of Vampyres, whether true or false, is
very ancient, and that the classical authors
are full of it. He remarks, that when the
ancients had murdered any one in a
treacherous manner, they cut off his feet, hands,
nose, and ears, and hung them round his neck
or under his arm-pits; conceiving that by
these means they deprived their victim of
the power of taking vengeance. Huet adds,
that proof of this may be found in the Greek
Scholia of Sophocles; and that it was after
this fashion that Menelaus treated Deiphobus,
the husband of Helen—the victim having been
discovered by Æneas in the infernal regions
in the above state. He also mentions the
story of Hermotimus of Clazomene, whose
soul had a power of detaching itself from its
body, for the sake of wandering through
distant countries, and looking into the secrets of
futurity. During one of these spiritual journeys,
his enemies persuaded his wife to have
the body burned; and his soul, upon the next
return, finding its habitation not forthcoming,
withdrew for ever after. According
to Suetonius, the body of Caligula, who had
been violently murdered, was but partially
burned and superficially buried. In
consequence of this, the house in which he had
been slain, and the garden in which the
imperfect cremation had taken place, were every
night haunted with ghosts, which continued
to appear until the house was burned down,
and the funeral rites properly performed by
the sisters of the deceased emperor. It is
asserted by ancient writers that the souls of
the dead are unable to repose until after the
body has been entirely consumed; and Huet
informs us that the corpses of those
excommunicated by the modern Greek Church are
called Toupi, a word signifying "a drum,"
because the said bodies are popularly supposed
to swell like a drum, and to sound like
the same, if struck or rolled on the ground.
Some writers have supposed that the ancient
idea of Harpies gave rise to the modern idea
of Vampyres.

Traces of the Vampyre belief may be
found in the extreme north—even in remote
Iceland. In that curious piece of old Icelandic
history, called The Eyrbyggja-Saga, of which
Sir Walter Scott has given an abstract, we
find two narrations which, though not identical
with the modern Greek conception of
Brucolacs, have certainly considerable affinity
with it. The first of these stories is to the
following effect—Thorolf Bægifot, or the
Crookfooted, was an old Icelandic chieftain
of the tenth century, unenviably notorious for
his savage and treacherous disposition, which
involved him in continual broils, not only
with his neighbours, but even with his own
son, who was noted for justice and generosity.
Having been frustrated in one of his knavish
designs, and seeing no farther chance open to him,
Thorolf returned home one evening, mad with
rage and vexation, and, refusing to partake of
any supper, sat down at the head of the table
like a stone statue, and so remained without
stirring or speaking a word. The servants
retired to rest; but yet Thorolf did not
move. In the morning, every one was horrified
to find him still sitting in the same place
and attitude; and it was whispered that the
old man had died after a manner peculiarly
dreadful to the Icelanders—though what may
be the precise nature of this death is very
doubtful. It was feared that the spirit of
Thorolf would not rest in its grave unless some
extraordinary precautions were taken; and
accordingly his son Arnkill, upon being sent
for, approached the body in such a manner as
to avoid looking upon the face, and at the
same time enjoined the domestics to observe
the like caution. The corpse was then
removed from the chair (in doing which, great
force was found necessary); the face was
concealed by a veil, and the usual religious rites
were performed. A breach was next made
in the wall behind the chair in which the
corpse had been found; and the body, being
carried through it with immense labour, was
laid in a strongly-built tomb. All in vain.
The spirit of the malignant old chief haunted
the neighbourhood both night and day;
killing men and cattle, and keeping every one
in continual terror. The pest at length
became unendurable; and Arnkill resolved to
remove his father's body to some other place.

On opening the tomb, the corpse of Thorolf
was found with so ghastly an aspect, that he
seemed more like a devil than a man; and
other astounding and fearful circumstances
soon manifested themselves. Two strong
oxen were yoked to the bier on which the