Lore - Lore 251: Casting Shade

Episode Date: April 8, 2024

Magic shows and illusions are often viewed as the stuff of childhood parties and tv specials. But as this journey into ancient history shows us, the history of magic is a lot more frightening than we might think. Written and produced by Aaron Mahnke, with research by Alexandra Steed and music by Chad Lawson. ————————— Lore Resources:  Episode Music: lorepodcast.com/music  Episode Sources: lorepodcast.com/sources  All the shows from Grim & Mild: www.grimandmild.com ————————— Sponsors: Mint Mobile: For a limited time, wireless plans from Mint Mobile are $15 a month when you purchase a 3-month plan with UNLIMITED talk, text and data at MintMobile.com/lore. BetterHelp: Lore is sponsored by BetterHelp. Give online therapy a try at BetterHelp.com/LORE, and get on your way to being your best self. Squarespace: Head to Squarespace.com/lore to save 10% off your first purchase of a website or domain using the code LORE. To report a concern regarding a radio-style, non-Aaron ad in this episode, reach out to [e-mail] with the name of the company or organization so we can look into it. ————————— To advertise on our podcast, please reach out to [e-mail], or visit our listing here. ©2024 Aaron Mahnke. All rights reserved.

The World of America Eric was just four when his family packed up their life and moved across the world to America. Like a lot of people in the late 1800s, they were looking for a better life in a land that promised more opportunity. Heck, just 15 years after Eric's family made the trip, my own German ancestors boarded a ship and did the same. Of course, travelers, settlers, and immigrants all carry some common things with them. Treasured belongings, necessary supplies, maybe a nest egg of some kind to fund their new adventure. But they also bring intangible

elements with them as well, namely their hopes, dreams, loves, and fears. Eric's family first settled down in Wisconsin, where his dad worked as a rabbi. By 1887, though, they had moved to New York City, and it was there, just three years later, that Eric read about a French magician and stage performer named Jean-Eugène Robert, Eric was instantly hooked. And it's a good thing, too, because that hero worship of an illusionist eventually led to a direct imitation. Eric dropped his childhood nickname of Aerie in favor of Harry and then added on an altered

version of Robert's married surname, giving the world a name that few have not encountered. Harry Houdini. And I don't know about you, but I think a lot of us shared that same passion for magic in our own childhood. We might not have changed our name to reflect our interests, but we've all spent moments in front of the TV or computer screen, our mouths open in disbelief as some new sleight of hand or illusion is pulled off before our very eyes.

Magic is attractive. Magic is entertaining. And for some people, magic is a way of life. But if the pages of history and folklore are any indication, magic is a dangerous tool to play with. I'm Aaron Manke, and this is Lore. It's never just been a fantasy. Throughout the pages of history, the idea that people might have access to a more supernatural

version of this world has always been an option. And I know, thanks to relatively modern books and films, magic has a special connotation for most of us. But there's more to it than bearded sages with glowing swords and a wooden staff. If you were to take a trip back in time and somehow miraculously speak the language of ancient Greece, you would interact with some of the earliest believers in magic. Now back then, they broke magic into two distinct camps. First there was the natural stuff, focused on healing and medicine.

And then there was the demonic magic, aimed at destruction and death, You know, harming other people, their crops, or their property. Both categories though were part of religion. After all, magic was the realm of the gods. So playing in that sandbox meant participating in that divine space. What sort of magic were they practicing, you might ask? Well, buckle up my friends, because this stuff is fun. First, there's a massive collection of spells that was collected in the 700 years between the second century BC and the fifth century AD.

One of the inscriptions is a how-to guide for an invisibility spell. All you need is the eye of an ape that died a violent death and a rose. Rub those items with lily oil and then rub the mixture on your face and, as they say, Bob's your uncle. Just don't move from west to east or else you will cancel the spell and be revealed. There are spells for becoming immortal, for restraining your anger, and even gaining friends.

Honestly, if you name it, there is an ancient Greek inscription that promises a magic power or result. And judging by Greek mythology, it's no wonder these folks believe that it was possible. Hecate was one of the lesser members of the Greek pantheon, but she was known primarily as the goddess of magic and witchcraft. She usually took one of three forms, mother, magician, or maiden. But she's also one of the few deities with the power to enter and leave the underworld. Because of this, her followers tended to use amulets, magical tablets, and memorized curses.

Now, despite what D&D and fantasy novels have taught us, amulets were not necklaces with giant gems in them. Usually they were little symbolic objects crafted from wood, bone, or stone. They could look like scarabs, the evil eye, horns, knots, and even genitalia. Because, you know, why not, right? And magical tablets weren't iPads. No, these were little scraps of thin metal, typically lead, that had requests that were scratched or etched onto them. The person making one would write down their deepest wish or need, maybe a cry for help or even a curse against their enemy.

And then that scrap would be folded in half and pierced with a nail before being tossed into a well or a grave. Why? Because those places were located closer to the gods. Speaking of enemies, another kind of magic was called a binding spell. These were used to restrict or harm something in the realm of a person you hated or who

hated you. A person might use a spell to bankrupt their foe's business or take a rival lover out of the game. There were even binding spells aimed at attorneys who had the power to defeat them in court. But the biggest brand of ancient Greek magic was what we might loosely categorize as medicine. You have to remember, folks back then didn't have the ability to jump into their car and drive to a highly trained physician and then stop at the pharmacy on the way home with the pills or the cream that might bring them healing. Instead, they leaned heavily on the natural world.

This might be why they viewed the line between magic and medicine as thin or even nonexistent. If someone had the knowledge to harvest a certain herb and prepare it in a special way that brought you healing, you better believe that it was a service looked on as magical. Of course, it didn't help that doctors back then might also mutter magical incantations as they performed those services. And a great example of this can be found in the Odyssey by Homer. There's a scene in the story where the hero Odysseus is wounded by a massive angry wild boar.

After his men kill the beast, they get their leader to someone who can help, the two sons of Autolichus, who heal Odysseus with a mixture of practical medicine and some spoken incantations. But there's one thing that seems to be missing from the ancient Greeks' attitude towards magic and that's the tendency to make it illegal. It's not that there weren't people who hated it. Clearly anything that claimed to have the power to destroy crops or kill a loved one is something that a lot of people would have been afraid of. And they were.

We simply don't have a massive list of criminal cases where magic played center stage. It usually entered the picture tangentially in court cases about theft or impiety. But magic itself wasn't a criminal obsession for the Greeks. The Romans, on the other hand, were a whole other story. Every culture has some nuance. Sometimes the differences are massive and other times they are barely perceptible. So while ancient Greece and ancient Rome might feel and look the same inside our minds, it's important to remember that they approached some things very differently. Like I said a

moment ago, court cases involving magic in ancient Greece were pretty rare, but almost from the start in Rome, things were different. Back in 450 BC, the rulers set up something called the Twelve Tablets. This was a list of laws that became the foundation for their entire legal system, and right there on the list were two laws about magic. First, it was illegal to create evil charms. You know, the stuff the Greeks thought of as demonic and destructive. For anyone curious, the Romans called that stuff Malum Carmen, and it didn't look too

kindly on it. The second restriction was a prohibition on enchanting the harvest. I'm not sure why they added that in, but some historians think it might have had something to do with basically trying to keep magic out of their food. But I do want to point out the larger underlying truth beneath these two laws. The Romans believed in the power of magic, which is why they felt the need to restrict its use. Now, Roman culture, if you've never heard this before, was sort of a sponge. They rolled across the known world and picked up cultural elements from all sorts of other

people groups. So it's no surprise that Roman people pretty much carried the magical traditions of the Greeks into a new era. Binding spells? Check. Cursed tablets? Check. Poisons and incantations? Check. There's this one curse tablet that I love so much that I want to quote it for you, because if you thought sports rivalries were a modern thing only, you were dead wrong.

I conjure you, demon, it said, whoever you may be, and order you to torture and kill, from this hour, on this day, at this moment, the horses of the green and the white teams. Kill and smash the charioteers, Clarus, Felix, Primulus, and Romanus. Do not leave a breath in them. Wild, right? But the similarities continue. Roman boys were even given amulets to protect and bless them in pretty much the same way that the Greeks did. If you're wondering, those usually took the form of a miniature penis dangling on a chain.

But that sort of magic was overlooked by Roman law, which was much more obsessed with aggressive and dangerous stuff. For example, in the second century BC, a guy with the amazing name of C. Furius Cresimus was taken to court by his neighbors. Why? Well, they saw that his crops were more fruitful and productive, and assumed that the guy was using magic to enhance his yield. But Mr. Furius brought the receipts. He showed up for his trial with all of his farm equipment and his workers.

And when the court asked about the magic, he just sort of spread his arms wide and motioned toward all of his real world tools. This, he told them, is my magic. Which, come on, that's some pretty dark shade, right? Anyway, one more example from Rome's attack on magic, and this one is a bit less fun. There was a pretty common dislike toward fortune telling back then, mostly because the people in power often saw that sort of thing as an attempt to subvert their authority. So even though people were constantly going to the oracles for guidance and help, it came with some risk. Emperor Tiberius, who ruled about 2000 years ago, had his own astrologer, a guy named Thrasyllus

of Mendys. I mention that as proof that he believed in the power of those who claimed to predict the future, which is why he became a paranoid authoritarian. Now Tiberius didn't care for a lot of people, but one of his least favorites was Marcus Scribonius Lebo, who seemed to have it all. Excellent lineage, a ton of wealth, and well-earned popularity and respect. But according to Roman historian Tacitus, he made the mistake of doing what everyone else around him was doing. He consulted an astrologer. There's a lot more to the story than that,

but for the sake of brevity, let's just say that this accusation got Lebo into a lot of hot water with Tiberius. The emperor had him put on trial, and under the heat of the spotlight, all of Lebo's friends turned against him. In the end, it wrecked him. Using the evil connotations of magic as a weapon,

Tiberius essentially crushed his rival in the court of public opinion. Seeing no way out, Lebo took his own life, after which his possessions were seized by the state. Even in death, he was attacked when he was denied some common funerary rights. And then, as if spitting on his grave, Even in death he was attacked when he was denied some common funerary rights. And then, as if spitting on his grave, Tiberius even had the man's day of death declared

a public holiday. A good life ruined by a jealous man. All thanks to the power of magic. By all accounts, Apuleius was a well-liked guy. He was born in the Roman colony of Numidia in northern Africa in the year 124 AD. Now, history hasn't preserved a first name for him, but because he was a writer of popular fiction, most people refer to him by the name of his best-known character, Lucius. So that's what I'll do here today.

One quick note, though. His novel called The Golden Ass is actually the only Latin work of its kind to survive into modern times intact. In it, a writer named Lucius goes on an adventure, messes around with magic, and ends up getting turned into, you guessed it, a donkey. Whether or not that's a bit of art imitating life, we shall see. Lucius Apuleius was well-educated, well-traveled, and mildly wealthy. He also belonged to a number of religious schools, going so far as to becoming a priest

of Asclepius, and his interest drove him to travel all over the place. Sometime in the late 150s AD, he found himself in the city of Ouya, the location of modern-day Tripoli in Libya, and as luck would have it he bumped into an old college friend named Sassinus Pontianus. So like you or I might do in that sort of situation, they got together to reminisce, catch up, and maybe share a drink. I don't know the exact details of their meeting, but it probably took place at Secinus'

home because while he was there, Lucius caught a glimpse of his friend's mom and fell in love. Maybe it was a sort of Stacey's mom kind of moment, or perhaps there was a real intellectual connection there. We don't really know much more than that. Now, Sassinus's mom Prudentilla was a widow, maybe 50 years old and incredibly rich. Her dead husband had left her a vast fortune that included a bunch of houses, a large bank account and even some agricultural businesses.

She was seen as a level-headed and wise woman. So it was surprising when she fell just as hard for Lucius as he had for her. And the couple agreed to get married. Now, without getting too deep into the weeds here, Prudentilla's fortune was the target of another person. You see, she had two sons. One was that college buddy, Sassinus, but the other was Pontianus, who had just gotten married himself. And his new father-in-law felt that he had a claim on that family fortune through that marriage, which made Lucius a rival and a threat. You can probably see where this is going, right?

That greedy father-in-law pulled together a bunch of others who stood to lose out if the wedding took place, and then all of them threw their weight behind stopping it. Pretty soon, rumors were flying, and they all had one salacious claim at their core. The only reason Lucius had managed to get Prudentilla to agree to marriage was through the use of magic. The final nail in Lucius' coffin was his old college pal, Succinus, the son of his new lady friend. His brother's father-in-law managed to get his devious fingers into him as well, turning

succinus against his friend and mom. It was all greedy and gold-digging, polished up and hidden behind faux outrage over the rumor of magic. Now, love magic was certainly a thing back then. Potions and talismans were often sold with claims that they could improve a person's love life. In fact, some historians think that these potions might have worked by enhancing a woman's libido, causing her to make decisions that were less logical and more biological. But that's just a theory. It was enough of an argument, though, to get Lucius dragged into court. And then,

after a bunch of legal back and forth, a new wrinkle appeared. Pontianus, the college friend's brother, suddenly died. And sure, he'd been sick and everyone knew that, but who did they blame? Lucius, of course. He and his magic had done the deed. The trial could have gone badly for him, but thanks to his skills as a public speaker and a philosopher, he managed to dismantle all of the charges against him. He even used his time in the spotlight to mock his accusers, calling them old-fashioned

for their belief in wives' tales and superstitions. In the end, Lucius Appalaeus won the case. And we know this because rather than going to jail, he published his speeches from the trial in a pamphlet he called The Apologia. He did what all of our parents told us to do when we were kids. He turned lemons into lemonade and walked away from serious trouble without a scratch. And that, my friends, was the only magic he was guilty of. Like I said before, magic is attractive.

Over the course of thousands of years, cultures have come and gone, but that shimmering thread has stuck around. Magic has empowered people, frightened people, and given them the courage to do things, both good and bad. And whether they were wearing phallic icons or little cursed scrolls around their necks, all of them were really just expressing hope. Hope that there was more to this life than the mundane. Hope that they had a chance to control the chaos, hoped that they could get ahead.

And because hope never dies, the general belief in magic has stuck around as well. Sure, the times changed, empires rose and fell, but through it all there was always that glimmer of hope, expressed through superstition and folklore. Which brings me to Hypatia. Born around 350 AD, she was a brilliant, well-educated intellectual woman who worked in the center of knowledge of the ancient world, Alexandria. And she was a teacher running a school for students from all over the known world, focusing on a new version of Platonic philosophy called Neoplatonism. Now, by the time she came around, the famous library of Alexandria

had already come and gone, but she was probably the last of a line of thinkers that had been made possible by that legendary collection. And she worked within a crossroads. The old world of intellectualism was being pushed aside in favor of the rise of a new, more dominant force, the church. in favor of the rise of a new, more dominant force, the Church. In the year 414, Hypatia got caught up in a religious battle in Alexandria. A Christian bishop named Cyril turned wildly anti-Semitic and closed down all of the synagogues in the city before stealing the possessions of all Jewish citizens and then running them out of town. So another Christian, the governor of the city, sought advice from Hypatia in hopes

of settling the matter peacefully and logically. For her wise counsel, she was rewarded by being targeted by the supporters of that bishop. Rumors started to fly that she was using magic to meddle in church matters. They accused her of satanic affiliation and of bewitching the governor. And less than a year later, the rumor mills and hatred of magic led to tragedy. In March of 415, Hypatia was surrounded by an angry mob as she traveled through the city. They dragged her inside a nearby pagan temple that had been converted into a Christian church and then stripped her naked and beat her to death.

After that, with hands covered in her blood, they dragged her dismembered corpse through the streets before burning her remains in front of a crowd. Her crime had been advocating for the side of peace, and her only magic had been using her wisdom and intellectual powers to make it happen. And yet, in the eyes of her critics, all of it served as proof that she was nothing more than a demonic user of magic, a belief that was so powerful, it cost her, her life. I hope you enjoyed today's exploration of magic in the ancient world. From public acceptance to legal restrictions, our belief in the power of supernatural forces has always been around, and so too has a tendency to push against them.

But that tug of war didn't stop in the Roman era. In fact, it stuck around a lot longer than anyone would have guessed. And I have one more story to tell you that proves it. Stick around through this brief sponsor break to hear all about it. This episode of Lore was sponsored by Mint Mobile. After years of fine print contracts and getting ripped off by overpriced wireless providers,

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use your own phone with any Mint Mobile plan and bring your phone number along with all your existing contacts. To get this new customer offer and your new three-month unlimited wireless plan for just $15 a month, go to mintmobile.com.com.com. That's mintmobile.com.com. Cut your wireless bill to $15 a month at mintmobile.com.com. $45 upfront payment required equivalent to $15 a month. New customers on first three-month plan only speeds slower about 40 gigabytes on unlimited plan, additional taxes, fees and restrictions apply. See Mint Mobile for details. This episode is also sponsored by BetterHelp. A lot of us spend our lives wishing that we had more time. The question is, time for what? If time was unlimited, how would you use it? Me, I would probably get in some extra reading time. You might take a nap though, or go for

a run. Whatever it feeds your soul or helps you relax. The best way to squeeze that special thing into your schedule is to know what's important to you and then make it a priority. And therapy can help you find what matters to you so you can do more of it. I know firsthand just how helpful therapy can be to bringing clarity to my priorities and decisions. It empowers you to be the best version of yourself because therapy isn't just for those who have experienced major trauma. If you're thinking of starting therapy, give BetterHelp a try. It's entirely online, designed to be convenient, flexible, and suited to your schedule. Just fill out a brief questionnaire to get matched with a licensed therapist and switch

therapists anytime for no additional charge. Learn to make time for what makes you happy with BetterHelp. Visit BetterHelp.com slash Lore today to get 10% off your first month. That's BetterHelp. H-E-L-P dot com slash Lore. And finally, this episode was sponsored by Squarespace. Over the years, you have watched me build lore from a thing that I made by myself to something that's a real team effort.

And then a few years ago, I added a whole network of podcasts around it, also crafted by that same talented team. And I knew right away that they deserved a showcase for all of their hard work. For that, I turned to Squarespace, whose tools and options make it easy to showcase my team and the shows they make. Their new asset library feature, for example, lets me save all of the necessary images, like the cover art for my shows and the photos of my team, and have them available across the Squarespace platform.

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Squarespace has the tools that you need to start selling online. So, what are you waiting for? Build your new website today. Just visit squarespace.com slash lore to start your free trial website. And when you're ready to launch, use the offer code LORE at checkout to save 10%. Squarespace build something beautiful. Helen MacFarlane was, by all accounts, an unusual child. Born in 1897 in the Scottish market town of Stirling, she started early with behavior

that her mother found to be embarrassing. Namely, the young girl would often make predictions that foretold of evil things to come. But like most kids back then, she grew up quickly. The outbreak of World War I drove her to work at the Dundee Royal Infirmary, and not long after that, in 1916, she met and married Henry Duncan. The couple would go on to have six children together. Henry wasn't like a lot of other people in Helen's life, though. Rather than disapproving of her paranormal interests, he actually encouraged them.

Which is why, in the 1920s, she officially started to advertise herself as a professional medium. In fact, it was work that would take her all around the UK. The typical seance run by Helen would look a bit like this. Participants would gather in a dark room, where Helen would arrive dressed all in black and place a blindfold on her head. Then she would channel various spirits in front of these witnesses and sometimes even produce physical proof through ectoplasm, sort of a cheesecloth-like material that she

would spit out onto the table. Now remember, she had a captive and willing audience. The Great War had left a lot of families in deep mourning. Grief was a constant struggle, and it caused an uptick in beliefs about the afterlife. As a result, her services as a person who claimed to be able to connect people to that other world were in high demand. By 1926, Helen had an entire well-rehearsed act, one that included at least two spirit partners named Peggy and Albert who would speak through her.

So when she and Henry moved the family to Edinburgh, she made quite a splash. Heck, at one of those sessions, she's even reported to have conjured up the spirit of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Over the next decade, her reputation only continued to grow. But of course, the larger a presence one builds in society, the bigger a target they become. Soon, critics were knock, knock, knocking on Helen's door. In 1928, for example, a photographer named Harvey Metcalf showed up at one of her seances and snapped some photos.

In them, it was clear that Helen's ectoplasm was nothing more than papier-mache and torn-up bedsheets. In 1933, someone in a seance managed to reach out and grab Helen's spirit partner, Peggy, only to discover that the figure was just a dummy made out of stuffed clothing. This person reported Helen to the police, and she was convicted of the crime of fraudulent mediumship. Surprisingly, though, none of this ended her career. In fact, her hardcore supporters ate it up. It was just the establishment trying to hide the truth, right?

Which might be why legendary paranormal investigator Harry Price was sent in. He sat through a number of her seances, and even subjected the medium to a pre-seance x-ray and some body cavity searches. And still, her popularity didn't waver. Not until late November of 1941, that is. That was the month that Helen held a seance in Portsmouth and claimed to hear from a sailor who had just died in the sinking of a battleship called the HMS Barham. When news of that revelation spread to the police, they started an investigation.

Why? Because the Barham was real and had actually sunk, but hadn't been announced to the public yet because of security concerns in the midst of World War II. In other words, Helen had just revealed state secrets and the authorities weren't too happy about it. By January of 1942, she had been arrested. Now had this happened back in the 1600s, she probably would have been tried under the Witchcraft Act of 1603.

Instead, she was tried under the more recent Witchcraft Act of 1735, still not an ideal position to be in. It took the jury less than 30 minutes to return a guilty verdict, resulting in a nine-month prison sentence for Helen. And because the Witchcraft Act would be repealed in 1951, historians believe that she became the last person ever to be tried under the 1735 version of the law, a relic in so many ways of an older, more superstitious era. After her release in late 1944, she was given strict instructions to stop holding seances.

But magic is attractive, and so is fame. So she ignored the rules and kept at it. A decade later, in 1956, police raided one of her illegal seances, and while they didn't find anything criminal taking place, the experience seemed to have frightened her deeply. She died just five weeks later, in December of 1956. A complicated hybrid of paranormal celebrity and fraudulent medium. The last person in England to be sent to prison for witchcraft.

This episode of Lore was written and produced by me, Aaron Manke, with research by Ally Steed and music by Chad Lawson. Don't like hearing the ads? We've got a solution for you. There is a paid version of Lore on Apple Podcasts and Patreon that is 100% ad-free. Plus subscribers get weekly mini-episodes called Lore Bytes. It's a bargain for all of that ad-free storytelling and a great way to support the show and the team behind it.

Lore is much more than just a podcast though. There's the World of Lore three book series plus two seasons of the television show on Amazon Prime Video. Learn more about all of that over at lorepodcast.com. You can also follow the show on threads, Instagram, Facebook, and YouTube. Just search for Lore podcast, all one word,

and then click that follow button. And when you do, say hi. I like it when people say hi. And as always, thanks for listening.