But the conclusion to which my analysis of the superstition has now led, explains what would otherwise have been almost inexplicable, the existence of a few stories in which the revenant, though called vrykolakas, is none the less represented as harmless or even amiable.
One such case is mentioned in Father Richard's narrative[1]—the case of a shoemaker in Santorini, who having turned vrykolakas continued to frequent his house, mend his children's shoes, draw water at the reservoir, and cut wood for the use of his family; and though it is added that the people became frightened and exhumed and burned him, this was only a measure of precaution dictated by their experience of other vrykolakes; no charge was brought against this particular revenant. It might also be supposed that the vrykolakes of Amorgos, mentioned next in the same narrative, who were seen in open day five or six together in a field feeding apparently on green beans, were of the less noxious kind; but they may of course have been carnivorous also.
Another story, recently published[2], records how a native of Maina, also a shoemaker by trade, having turned vrykolakas issued from his grave every night except Saturday, resumed his work, and continued to live with his wife, whose pregnancy forced her to reveal the truth to her neighbours. When once this was known, many accusations, it is true, were brought against the vrykolakas; but the story at least recognises some domestic and human traits in his character.
But a much more remarkable tale[3] is told of a field-labourer of Samos who was so devoted to the farmer for whom he worked, that when he died he became a vrykolakas and continued secretly to give his services. At night he would go to the farm-buildings, take out the oxen from their stall, yoke them, and plough three acres while his master slept; in the daytime an equal piece of work was done by the master—so that incidentally the oxen were nearly killed. The neighbours however having had their suspicions aroused by the rapidity of the work, which the farmer himself could in no wise explain, kept watch one night, and having detected the vrykolakas opened his grave, found him, as would be expected, whole and incorrupt, and burned him., I. p. 589.]
