Transylvanian Superstitions: From: The Nineteenth Century (Vol. 18), London, July-December 1885, pp. 130-150

In Short

This essay explores the rich, layered folklore of late nineteenth-century Transylvania, documenting a cultural ecosystem where pagan roots, Christian observances, and regional anxieties collide. Author Emily Gerard analyzes the origin and expression of local beliefs, categorizing them into native Roumenian traditions, imported Saxon customs, and itinerant gypsy lore. Through vivid descriptions of seasonal rituals, protective charms, weather magic, and terrifying creatures like vampires and werewolves, the text records an isolated mountain society’s efforts to explain the natural world and ward off unseen danger.

The Story

Gerard opens her examination by describing Transylvania as a secluded mountain realm where beliefs long banished from western Europe continue to flourish. She identifies three distinct streams feeding this landscape: the indigenous Roumenian lore shaped by wild caverns and solitary lakes, the Saxon customs brought by German settlers seven centuries prior, and the wandering fortune-telling traditions of the gypsies. These three influences endlessly mingle, creating an intricate web of domestic rules and mystical fears.

The author traces how this worldview dictates daily life through a rigid calendar of lucky and unlucky days. Tuesdays are governed by a dangerous spirit that forbids spinning or venturing out after dark, while Thursdays require strict rest from agricultural labor to avoid devastating hailstorms. As the seasonal cycle progresses, major feast days demand specific protective rituals. Epiphany requires the freezing of consecrated river water for medicinal remedies, and St. George’s Eve sees villagers placing blocks of green turf across windows and doorways to block witches, while treasure hunters search nocturnal hillsides for burning blue flames.

Gerard then explores the magical mechanisms thought to govern natural phenomena and human health. Thunderstorms are believed to be orchestrated by the Scholomance, a hidden mountain school where the devil trains scholars to ride dragons and construct thunderbolts. Peasants protect their homes from lightning by spinning bread-and-knife tops in lofts or ringing cloudless-cast bells. Everyday fauna—swallows, crows, toads, and weasels—are read as omens or suspected of serving witches. Human transitions are equally freighted; wedding guests compare sizes of blessed bread to see who will die first, and newborns receive iron charms beneath their pillows to ward off malicious spirits.

The narrative culminates in the community's intense preoccupation with death and the afterlife. Gerard details elaborate mourning practices, including cutting ear openings in coffins so the deceased can hear funeral songs, and holding recurring memorial feasts to appease wandering spirits known as Strigoi. She highlights the dread surrounding the nosferatu, or vampire, describing how villagers exhume suspected corpses to drive stakes through their hearts or burn their remains. The essay concludes by documenting ancient Saxon pageants, such as the Ascension Day Todaustragen—a ritual parade carrying a straw figure of Death out of the village to welcome summer—showing how deeply pagan survival remains woven into daily life.

How It Unfolds

The land of delusion Gerard introduces Transylvania as an isolated mountain refuge where supernatural creatures defy modern science. She establishes three sources of these beliefs: indigenous Roumenian myth, ancient Saxon settler customs, and wandering gypsy traditions.

A calendar of fear and favor The author outlines how specific weekdays govern domestic work, forbidding spinning on Tuesdays or field labor on certain Thursdays. Holy feast days require strict observances, such as placing evergreen leaves on hot hearthstones at New Year's or keeping watch over cattle on St. George’s Eve.

Dragons, weather, and magic charms Gerard describes the legendary Scholomance, a mountain school where the devil teaches scholars to control storms from dragonback. She details practical counter-charms, including spinning a top made of bread and a knife during a tempest to ward off lightning.

Omens of the forest and farm The narrative examines how peasants view animals as omens or witch accomplices. Swallows bring good luck and hidden gold, while toads found in cow-byres are stoned for stealing milk, and horses' skulls are mounted over gates to deter ghosts.

The shadow of the living dead The study shifts to death, detailing funeral feasts (Pomanas) and open-eared coffins designed for mourning songs. Gerard explains the terror of the blood-drinking nosferatu, outlining traditional methods like staking, garlic, and heart-burning used to neutralize suspected vampires.

Expelling death from the village Gerard observes the Saxon Todaustragen pageant, where young girls parade a straw-clad figure of Death through the streets before throwing it into a river. The ritual ends with a maiden donning the figure's finery to signify summer's arrival.

The People

The Roumenian Peasant An imaginative, poetically inclined figure whose everyday existence is dictated by deep spiritual anxiety. Desiring protection for crops, cattle, and family, the peasant clings to traditional charms to ward off witches, hailstorms, and evil spirits.

The Saxon Villager A descendant of twelfth-century German colonists who preserves centuries-old pagan customs in mountain isolation. The Saxon peasant balances Lutheran Christianity with ancient rites, such as burning distaffs during winter or parading straw representations of Death through the parish.

The Gypsy A member of the nomadic tribes wandering the region as brickmakers, fortune-tellers, and healers. Frequently accused of causing droughts or dealing in black fasts and magic potions like the spiridusch, the gypsy is both shunned and secretly consulted by local villagers seeking remedies.

The Nosferatu The feared undead creature of Roumenian myth, born from illegitimate bloodlines or transformed through a vampire's attack. Existing only to feed on the blood of the living, it drives terrified communities to perform gruesome grave exhumations to secure peace for the dead.

In Its Own Voice

"Transylvania might well be termed the land of superstition, for nowhere else does this curious crooked plant of delusion flourish as persistently and in such bewildering variety."

Gerard introduces the unique geographic isolation and cultural mix that allows local folk beliefs to thrive untouched by modern science.

"More decidedly evil, however, is the vampire, or nosferatu, in whom every Roumenian peasant believes as firmly as he does in heaven or hell."

The author describes the intense, literal belief in blood-drinking undead beings that haunts village communities across the region.

"No wonder, then, that winter and death became identical in their minds, and that they hailed the advent of spring with delirious joy..."

Gerard explains the psychological reality behind seasonal rituals that pit the threat of winter against the relief of spring.

What It's Really About

Gerard's study explores how human communities use narrative and ritual to survive in isolated, harsh environments. Beneath the colorful descriptions of goblins, weather charms, and grave-staking lies an argument about the durability of cultural memory. The text demonstrates that ancient pagan anxieties do not disappear with the arrival of Christianity or modern technology; instead, they adapt, re-labeling old gods as saints and blending separate traditions into unified defensive habits against disease, starvation, and sudden death.

Why Read It Today

This essay offers a vivid snapshot of nineteenth-century regional folklore written right before modern industrialization changed Eastern Europe's rural life. Gerard writes with clear narrative flair, recording customs with a keen journalistic eye for domestic detail—from bread tops spun in lofts to garlic stuffed in coffins. Readers interested in historical anthropology, Gothic literature, and European myth will find it a fascinating historical artifact that directly inspired Bram Stoker's vision of Transylvania.

The work does carry period-typical Victorian biases, often viewing local peasants and nomadic populations through a patronizing, superior lens. Its tone reflects nineteenth-century travel literature, occasionally generalizing entire ethnicities. However, the sheer abundance of recorded detail—such as harvest chants, love charms made of tree-frog bones, and seasonal pageants—makes it an engaging and informative read for anyone curious about the real folklore behind classic horror tropes.