Lore - Episode 143: Inside Information

Episode Date: May 25, 2020

Some of the oldest and most popular parts of folklore are the ghost stories. Whether told around a campfire, or red about in the safety a well-lit room, they are always fun, and often chilling. But there’s so much more to ghosts than wispy visions and rattling chains. ———————— Lore Resources:  Episode Music: lorepodcast.com/music  Episode Sources: lorepodcast.com/sources  Lore News: www.theworldoflore.com/now  Learn more about your ad-choices at https://www.iheartpodcastnetwork.com Access premium content!: https://www.lorepodcast.com/support See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

John inherited quite a lot from his family, and not all of it was good. His father passed away in 1718 when he was just four years old, and his mother died the year after that. To add tragedy to his story, her death was most likely preventable. It seems that she had the money in the bank to buy food and medicine, but she preferred not to spend it and died as a result. The rest of his childhood was spent in a boarding school in London, but he stayed in contact with his mother's brother, Uncle Harvey.

But Harvey was just like his sister in a lot of ways. Despite owning a massive country estate, he chose not to spend the money on upkeep and repairs, and the home soon fell to ruin. When he died, John inherited all of that unspent money. In fact, John had become insanely rich. Between the money left to him by his parents and then his uncle, it's estimated that he was worth roughly $130 million in modern American currency. But as he matured, John showed just how much like his forebearers he truly was.

Despite his elevated social standing, he became more and more of a miser with his fortune. It's said that rather than buy new clothing for himself, John simply repurposed the clothes of dead relatives. And his own country estate fell to ruin from that same sort of miserly neglect. Even after rising to the position of parliament, he refused to use the massive fortune he possessed. So it's no surprise that by the age of 70, he was worth an estimated $300 million modern American dollars. John Elwis would eventually die and leave his fortune to his two sons, but he left the

world something bigger. You see, most scholars agree that he was the inspiration behind one of the most famous literary characters of legendary author Charles Dickens. So while few remember the name of John Elwis, just about everyone knows who Ebenezer Scrooge was. Of course, Elwis never changed, but Charles Dickens was a hopeful sort of man. In his much-loved A Christmas Carol, he portrayed Scrooge as a man who could learn and grow and have his eyes open to the error of his ways.

But the tool that Dickens used to bring about that change was downright otherworldly. Ghosts. Through the story, readers are introduced to four of them, his former partner Jacob Marley and the ghosts of Christmas Past, Christmas Present, and Christmas Yet to Come. And in the process, we've all been introduced to a powerful idea. Sometimes, whether we want them to or not, the dead return. I'm Aaron Mankey, and this is Lore. Ghost stories are surprisingly old.

A lot of people today imagine ghosts as pale Victorian visitors who drift through our homes to the sounds of chains and ominous thunder. But in reality, that's only a small slice of the larger picture. Maybe we can blame that on the rise of television and film, where ghosts are a favorite plot point. They're not wrong, but they also fail to capture how truly ancient the idea really is. To see this, all we really need to do is read through the mythology of the ancient Greeks. Their legends are full of tales involving dead who return as terrifying creatures to

haunt the living. In fact, the Greeks believe so strongly in the power of ghosts that they built a number of traditions around them. All manner of sacrifices and mourning rituals were performed by the living in an attempt to keep the dead at bay. And once each year, ancient Greek families would gather for a feast, during which they would call out the spirits and request that they leave the living alone for another year. When the Romans expanded around the ancient Mediterranean world, they absorbed countless

cultures, including the Grecian city-states, but they also added some of their own superstitions to the mix. For example, it was common for ancient Romans to scratch curses on pieces of pottery or scraps of lead, calling on the power of ghosts to afflict their enemies. But the Romans might also be the source of one of the world's first ghost stories. Pliny the Younger, writing in the first century, documented the story of a philosopher named Athenodorus, who purchased a house in Athens that came with a dark reputation. According to Pliny, this man was informed that the house was haunted, and yet bought

it anyway. After moving in, though, the stories came to life. Athenodorus was a bit of a night owl, preferring to work at his desk late into the evening. And so it was that one night, as he sat writing by candlelight, a startling sound caught his attention. Looking up, he discovered the ghostly form of a man, hovering in the middle of the room. His body bound with chains, and then the ghost drifted slowly outside. Curious, the man followed the ghost until it stopped in the courtyard, where it pointed

at the ground. Athenodorus took the hint and grabbed a shovel. But after digging down into the loose soil, he made a grisly discovery. It was the skeleton of a man, bound in chains. Pliny tells us that Athenodorus dug the body out, removed the chains, and then gave the remains a proper burial. After that, the spirit never troubled him again. The ancient Greeks and Romans weren't alone, of course.

Long before them, in Egypt, there was plenty of belief in the power of the human spirit after death. Ancient Egyptians believed that the human soul was made up of several different parts, each with their own focus. One of these was the spiritual body, which was meant to make the journey from this world into the afterlife. But oftentimes, that spirit was believed to interact with the land of the living as it made that journey, resulting in what we would think of as a haunting.

And of course, sometimes these spirits were vengeful. Much like the stories we still tell today in popular culture, these Egyptian spirits would return to exact revenge on those that wronged them in life. In fact, one story from the Middle Kingdom makes that belief abundantly clear. In the tale, a man claimed that his dead wife was haunting him, and so he sat down to write her a letter. This letter shows us just how confused and desperate the man was, too. He explains how much he loved her in life, how he cared for her during her terminal illness,

and how respectfully he had buried her. Whether his pleas satisfy the ghost of his wife is unclear, but his frustration teaches us everything we need to know. Ghosts, even then, were real. Around the globe in ancient China, we can find similar beliefs. Just as in Egypt, the key was a proper death and burial. Anyone who died violently or unexpectedly stood a good chance of returning from the land of the dead as ghosts, even more so if those people weren't given a proper burial.

And just like the ancient Greeks, the Chinese held a ghost festival to honor and appease the dead. It takes place during the seventh month of the Chinese calendar, a time when the veil between the living and the dead is thought to be at its thinnest. It is also, interestingly enough, the time of the fall harvest and a full moon, which has caused many people to think of it as the Chinese Halloween, although there are a lot of differences, too. One story in particular illustrates just how important a proper burial was to the ancient

Chinese. In it, the ghost of a young woman haunted the home of a pair of brothers, and it said that they desperately wanted to get rid of her. So one night after she appeared in their house, they caught her in a sack and then tossed it down a well. The following night, though, the ghostly young woman returned, this time carrying the sack with her. So the brothers captured her again and weighed the sack down with heavy stones before tossing

it back into the well. Still, the girl returned. On the final night, they captured the ghost inside the sack and then placed it in a hollowed-out log before capping both ends and setting it adrift on the river. In response, the spirit thanked them for a proper burial and never returned to their house again. For thousands of years and across countless cultures, ghosts have been a connection to our past.

They have helped us remember our loved ones and guide us toward respect and tradition. But that's not all they've done. Among the countless stories we have today, there are many that show ghosts less as a part of the past and more as a signpost on the way to our future. Sure, sometimes the spirits return to complain about a lack of respect, who haunt them. Ghosts and irritate us into obedience, but they're also known for something else. Sometimes they return to bring us a warning. It started with belief, belief that the dead might return, that their spirit could somehow

cross back over the threshold between life and death in order to interact with us in the here and now. But that belief led to deeper questions. If it was true, if the dead could pass back into our world, then what knowledge might they bring with them? It varies from culture to culture, always dependent on what sort of views of the afterlife they hold. But in general, every group of ancient people has wrestled with this idea.

When the dead come back, what do they know? An early example of this notion can be found in the Iliad by the 8th century BC Greek poet Homer. In it, Achilles experiences a dream in which his friend, Patroclus, appears before him and urges him to complete the funeral rites he deserves. And what's clear from their interaction is that Patroclus is aware of things that took place after his death. In Homer's other famous work, Odyssey, the idea is given even more strength.

At one point in the story, the main character, Odysseus, is approached by the ghost of his own mother. Not only is news of her death shocking to him, but she also informs him of the situation back home. Apparently, he'd been on his journey so long that greedy neighbors were beginning to circle like vultures around his abandoned household. But it goes beyond ancient cultures, too. Even in Elizabethan literature, we find ghosts handing out inside information that they somehow

obtained from the other world. In Shakespeare's Richard III, Richard is visited before the Battle of Bosworth by the spirits of his previous victims, like some sort of macabre guilt trip, and they all predict his impending defeat. In Julius Caesar, Shakespeare gives us more of the same. At one point, Caesar's ghost makes a brief appearance, and he uses it to shame his old friend Brutus for betraying him. And of course, in Hamlet, the Dead King visits multiple characters who are naturally terrified.

But they also receive valuable information from the ghost about his true killer. And the list goes on and on. All throughout history, ghosts have been seen as sources of new information. Perhaps it's their connection to the afterlife, or their access to a god who might be willing to share a glimpse of the future. Either way, it's an added layer to the idea of what a ghost truly is. More than just a terrifying vision, ghosts, it seems, can be informants. One last story about well-informed ghosts.

In 1826, a woman named Maria from the English village Polsted met the man of her dreams. William was two years younger than her, and was a bit of a lady's man, but he was also willing to court her despite the child she was raising out of wedlock, a major concession in those days. Maria, though, was looking for marriage. Her father and stepmother were looking for it as well. And she brought the idea up often to William, suggesting that they run away together in a lope.

And after Maria gave birth to his child in 1827, he finally got the hint. On the night of May 18th, 1827, William arrived on Maria's doorstep. He told her that the local sheriff was on his way to arrest her for having another child outside of marriage, and that she needed to run away immediately. He would be waiting for her inside a local landmark on the edge of town, an old building with red roof tiles known affectionately as the Red Barn. Following his instructions, Maria dressed herself in some of her father's clothing. Then after quietly packing the bare essentials, she slipped out into the night and vanished.

Her father and stepmother would never see her again. William Corder also vanished from town, but he later paid a visit and told everyone that Maria was safe and sound in their new home in Ipswich. Her family begged to see her, but William was shifty and soon left town rather than give them an answer. But short while later, Maria's parents received a letter from her that attempted to calm all their fears. Soon after, Maria's stepmother began to have dreams.

In them, the ghost of Maria appeared to her and revealed how she had been murdered inside the Red Barn, and that if they knew where to look, the evidence of the crime could be located. She spent months telling her husband, Maria's father, about the dreams and begging him to go see if it was true. And finally, on April 19th of 1828, he agreed. What he found inside the Red Barn was something no parent should ever have to experience. A patch of disturbed soil convinced him to grab a shovel and dig, which led him to find

his daughter's body. After confirming her identity to the authorities, an arrest warrant was issued for William Corder, who was later found in a nearby village running a boarding house with his brand new wife. William confessed to the murder, and he hanged for his crime in August of 1828. The spirits that haunt us often hold power over us. If the stories are true, it's their ability to straddle that invisible line between the living and the dead that gives them access to things no one else might know. That business lost loved ones and the evidence needed to track down a killer.

Whether we believe it or not is up to each of us, but the stories certainly carry a powerful message. The question is, are we willing to listen? Nicola was born into a wealthy Irish family, but as we all know, death never plays favorites. Early in her childhood, both of her parents passed away, and she was sent to live under the guardianship of another family. And she wasn't alone. When she arrived, she discovered that the family had recently taken in an orphaned boy of roughly

the same age. John had also been born to money, but had lost both parents to illness. Life in the 17th century was never easy, and it often harmed children the most. Nicola and John grew up as if they were siblings, sharing every aspect of their lives under the care of their guardians. And while they were both exposed to a number of religious beliefs and practices, they kept an open mind. But they did settle on one thing.

They each pledged to return from the grave to tell their surviving friend about life after death. In 1687, Nicola married Sir Tristram Beresford, and the couple went on to have two daughters together. They were in love and life was good, but darker times were headed their way, and it would all begin on a family trip to Gill Hall in the Irish village of Dremor. One morning during their stay there, Nicola, now known as Lady Beresford, arrived late to breakfast.

Her husband knew immediately that something was wrong, too. She looked pale and unwell, and she had a strange black ribbon tied around her wrist. So he asked her what was troubling her. Nicola brushed it off and claimed that she was fine. She did, however, give her husband some startling news. Without explanation, she claimed that she was awaiting a letter that would announce the death of her childhood friend John. And with an air of certainty, she stated that he had passed away at four o'clock the previous

Tuesday. Why she believed this, though, was a mystery. Later that morning, a courier arrived with a letter, which was sealed with black wax. Upon opening it, they discovered that it had been written by John Steward and that it contained the exact message that Nicola had been expecting. John died suddenly the previous Tuesday at exactly four o'clock. Nicola was clearly sad, but she also shared happier news with her husband. She was pregnant with their third child, she told him, and this one would be a son.

She was certain of it. Within the year, she was proven right, and the couple welcomed Marcus into their home. But life gives and takes. Before Marcus was six years old, Lord Barrisford passed away, leaving Nicola alone with her three children. This time the blow was devastating, and she retreated for a time into darkness and depression. But slowly, she recovered and ventured out again, becoming more social as the months passed by, and that's when she met Richard.

Richard was an army officer and the son of a clergyman, not a titled lord as one might have expected for her. He was younger, much less wealthy, and not as well connected as her first husband, but regardless the couple were soon married. But that marriage came with problems, and not too long after they separated from each other. It would be a number of years before they reunited, but eventually Nicola took Richard back.

They had another son, raised their children, and carried on through life as best they could. And at some point, her oldest children decided to throw a party in her honor to celebrate her 48th birthday. It was a happy gathering, and Nicola seemed especially full of joy and peace. She had the air of someone who had avoided something unwanted, and she practically glowed. One of the guests of the party was a very old friend, an elderly bishop who, 48 years before, had christened her as an infant. Nicola naturally brought up this connection when they had a moment to speak, but the

bishop shook his head and frowned. No, he told her, that number was wrong. He had heard her make mention of her age before, and had always confused him, so he had recently gone back to the parish church where her records were kept and confirmed his suspicion. While it was indeed her birthday, it was her 47th, not her 48th, that they should be celebrating. Despite having a whole year chopped off her age, something most of us would gladly accept, Nicola was immediately struck with fear and panic. Without explanation, she retreated back to the house and her bedroom, leaving the party

to carry on without her. And naturally, this sort of behavior concerned her children, so they paid her a visit to see if she needed anything. With her children there, around her bed, Nicola made a confession, something she had never told another living soul before. She explained to them how many years before, she was pulled from sleep in the early morning hours while visiting friends at Gill Hall. When she did, she discovered her childhood friend John standing over her bed.

After lecturing John for visiting without warning, he shook his head and told her that, no, he wasn't really there. He was dead, having passed away the Tuesday before at four o'clock. He was nothing more than a ghost, but he had returned with news for her. He told Nicola that she was pregnant and would soon deliver a son, which must have been awkward for Marcus to hear as he stood next to her bed hearing her confession. John also told her that six years later, her husband would pass away, something that also came true.

And then the biggest news of all, that she herself would die on her 47th birthday. As proof that he was really there, John's ghost reached out and touched her wrist, disfiguring the skin in an unnatural way. He told her to never let anyone else see the scar and suggested tying a ribbon around it to keep it hidden, this little bit of evidence of his return and the future his ghost had revealed to her. After her confession, Nicola asked everyone to leave the room and she soon fell silent. Later that afternoon, they checked back in on her and found that the final prediction

had also come true. Nicola had passed away on her 47th birthday. As you might imagine, her children were heartbroken, but they were also curious. They all looked down at that black ribbon tied around her wrist, the one she had worn every single day for many years, and then cast curious glances at each other. Finally, one of her daughters stepped forward and bent down. She tugged at the knot and soon the ribbon fell away. Beneath it was something both unusual and completely expected.

A patch of withered skin, just as their mother had described. Ghosts are a divisive topic. People have debated for centuries about their existence, and while pop culture and cable television might seem to be full of believers, there are just as many people out there ready to dismiss everything. The matter might be settled for most of us, but the answer, it seems, is deeply personal. But you don't have to believe in ghosts to understand the power found in their stories. Visitors from beyond the veil who drift back into our lives to seek revenge for past wrongs

or to offer guidance for future decisions, it's easy to see, at the very least, why people have believed in them for so long. But ghost omens are another level. Their stories are just as old and just as global, but they add new layers to a typical haunting tale. This idea that, because ghosts visit us from the afterlife, that their privy to some sort of hidden knowledge is an ancient yet textured concept, and of course, the very fact that some people believe it teaches us volumes about who we are.

Which is why I love the story of Lady Beresford and her ominous visit from her childhood friend John, known to history as Lord Tyrone. It's a story with a lot of provenance, too, having been passed down by her family through the generations. It was also written down very early on, and that manuscript is still in safekeeping, and because of all of that, the legend has a bit more color in life. But as you might imagine, there's more to the story. When John's spirit visited Nicola that night long ago, he offered her proof of his existence

and then made a number of very specific predictions, the birth of a son, which came true, the death of her husband, which also came to pass, and of course, her own death on her 47th birthday. But there was one more. According to Nicola, John's ghost told her that long after they were both gone, Nicola's son and his own heir would be married. It's a powerful message, too. Even after their deaths, their families would be bound together in a real and powerful way. The trouble is, stories that are deeply tied to historical events and people have a lot

of evidence behind them, strings that can be pulled, and facts that can't be verified. And the historical Lord Tyrone didn't leave behind a family of his own. He died a bachelor in 1693, which means no widow and certainly no daughter. Nicola's son Marcus would eventually go on to get married. His wife, Lady Catherine, came from a wealthy family of similar social status, but her father wasn't Nicola's friend John. And for a lot of us, that might put the proverbial nail in the coffin on the accuracy of the legend.

If one of the predictions failed to stick the landing, it certainly cast doubt on the rest. But Lady Catherine wasn't a random socialite or the product of some arranged marriage. She and Marcus had known each other since childhood, thanks to some family connections. Connections that, through a series of unfortunate events, led to her inheriting the title and fortune of her dear young uncle, Lord Tyrone. Just as predicted, she was his heir. Ghost stories are central to just about every culture around the world. And while they vary from place to place, most of them share a lot of common details.

So I hope today's tour through a few examples left you with a better understanding of all of that, while delivering a few chills along the way. But I'm not done just yet. There's one last story that I want to dust off and share with you. And if you stick around after this brief sponsor break, I'll tell you all about it. There are far too many books available for any one person to read all of them, but that's also part of the beauty of it all. Still, it's my job to find the best, the darkest, and the most entertaining.

Boy do I have one for you. His name was William of Newburgh, who worked in the 12th century as a chronicler of just about everything going on in his day. His most well-known work, a massive book called The History of English Affairs, was popular then and is still incredibly entertaining now. And part of that, I think, is just how much page time he gives to things that return from the dead. A common subject of his stories were creatures that were known as revenants, sort of a hybrid

of a zombie and a ghost. These were dead bodies that had somehow become reanimated and then returned to their towns and families to haunt the living. But he also veered into the territory of ghosts. In one story, Newburgh tells the tale of a man named Lord Northumberland, who strongly suspected his wife of cheating on him. To catch her in the act, he climbed on top of her canopy bed and laid down. Soon enough, his wife and her lover entered the room and demonstrated her infidelity right

beneath him. It was all the proof he needed. The trouble was, the experience was so shocking to him that he tripped while trying to climb back down and confront them. He landed headfirst on the cold stone floor and died instantly. But a man as upset as Lord Northumberland wasn't about to let death stand in his way. Even after his burial, his ghost was reported in the castle, and with it came an awful stench, as if a corpse were being moved around from room to room.

In fact, Newburgh records that the smell was so powerful that it caused a plague that killed many of the people in town. Desperate for relief from both the hauntings and the smell, I suppose, the dead lords corpse was exhumed. They found his belly swollen and filled with blood, a sign to their medieval minds at least that he had been feeding on the townsfolk. They quickly burned the body, and that was the end of the haunting. But my favorite story from his book is about a priest from Melrose Abbey.

For many years, this priest had served as a chaplain to a local noblewoman, a lofty position in those days, and it seems that she greatly appreciated his services and often donated funds to the Abbey to help support their work there. But the priest passed away unexpectedly one day, and left the noblewoman without an advisor or a friend. And maybe it was a mixture of that grief and a few of the rumors about the priest's less than savory behavior, but soon enough there were reports that his spirit wasn't entirely at rest.

In fact, it had started to haunt her house. Yes, his body was buried in the Melrose Abbey cemetery, and yes, a dozen monks could attest to digging that grave and placing his cold body inside it. But despite that tangible evidence, the noblewoman made many reports that seemed to suggest otherwise, and most of them centered around her bedchamber. She claimed that the dead priest had returned and would hover above the floor of her room, moaning and making other horrible sounds. Those who witnessed the priest claimed that his body was nearly transparent, but the sounds

were as clear as day, and it happened so often that the noblewoman became utterly desperate, so she reached out to the abbey for help. Actually, that's a bit generous. She begged them, really. Please, she pleaded. Pray that the dead priest goes away, and pray for my safety and sense of peace. And of course, the abbot gladly complied, instructing all the monks to offer prayers for her throughout the day, and yet the dead priest continued his hauntings.

Finally, everyone had taken about all they could handle, and so the abbot gathered a few monks together and tasked them with sitting watch near the priest's grave to keep vigil and look for signs of the ghost. And sure enough, later that night, the dead man made an appearance. Much to the horror of the men, I'm sure. In the chaos of his appearance, though, the monks attempted to attack the ghost. I'm not sure what they were thinking, really. Everyone who has seen Ghostbusters knows how pointless that should have been, but these

were men who had been raised on stories of revenants, so perhaps they assumed the vision they saw was a real animated corpse. Regardless, they struck out at the ghost with their shovels and clubs, and apparently harmed it enough to frighten it away. And then they ran for safety. But all of them returned the following morning with new orders to dig up the priest's corpse and burn it. After they were done, it said that the hauntings had stopped, thankfully.

One last detail, though. After digging down into the loose soil of the priest's grave, they opened the rough wooden coffin to expose the dead man's body, and what they found inside it sent a chill down their backs. Although the priest had died of natural causes, with no visible injuries on his body, the man's corpse was reportedly covered in vicious cuts and bloody gashes. Injuries, it was said, that matched the events from the night before. This episode of Lore was written and produced by me, Aaron Mankey, with research by Alexandra

Steed, and music by Chad Lawson. Lore is much more than just a podcast. There's a book series available in bookstores and online, and two seasons of the television show on Amazon Prime Video. Check them both out if you want more Lore in your life. I also make two other podcasts, Aaron Mankey's Cabinet of Curiosities, and Unobscured, and I think that you'd enjoy both of them. Each one explores other areas of our dark history, ranging from bite-sized episodes to

season-long dives into a single topic. You can learn more about both of those shows and everything else going on over in one central place. The World of Lore.com slash now. And you can also follow the show on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram. Just search for Lore podcast, all one word, and click that follow button. When you do, say hi. I like it when people say hi.

And as always, thanks for listening.