Magic

necromantic ceremony. The satirist Menippus, one of Lucian’s heroes,

wishes to visit the underworld, and he travels all the way to Babylon to
consult one of the magi. The preparations he has to make are formidable:
purification by ablutions and fumigations, strict diet, sleeping out of
doors, taking special precautions. Some of the details seem rather fantas-
tic, while others might be part of the long, slow formation of the shaman;
it is Lucian’s technique to mix fantasy with ‘‘reality,’’ but by the admixture
he shows how little ‘‘reality’’ he thought there was to begin with.
The magi of later antiquity could be called ‘‘Men with the Double
Image.’’Ωπ Lucian tapped the potentialities of the occult, and he recog-
nized that there are two di√erent ways of making one’s way in the world.
He engaged in what a psychoanalyst might today call ‘‘objective identi-
fication’’ (i.e., he became the god he invoked: ‘‘For you are I, and I am
you’’).Ω∫ The people who pointed their finger at him were ‘‘Men with the
Single Image.’’ They may have envied the magus’ way of life, his apparent
success; they may have been afraid of his power; but they resented his
existence, declared his activities illegal, and tried to entrap him.
It is still di≈cult to draw the line between philosophers (or scientists)
who were just that and philosophers who were also ‘‘into magic,’’ to use
the contemporary idiom. The archaic combination of both survives on a
lower level, as it were. A Neo-Pythagorean like Apollonius of Tyana or a
Platonist like Apuleius of MadauraΩΩ could be accused of magical prac-
tices and in his defense simply say: ‘‘As a philosopher [or scientist] I am
interested in everything and ready to investigate every phenomenon un-
der the sun. If there is such a thing as magic—and almost everyone seems
to believe there is—I want to find out whether it works or not. But let me
assure you that I am not a magician, and any miracles that I seem to
perform can be explained in scientific terms.’’
The professional sorcerers of later antiquity were consulted by women
and men of all classes, but among their best clients was the demi-monde of
popular performers, such as athletes and actors who had to give their best
in a limited period of time and were naturally afraid that their rivals or the
supporters of their rivals might put a spell on them just then.
Apuleius, accused of witchcraft, was a highly educated man, but most
real magicians apparently were not. Augustine (c. Acad. 1.7.19√.) was
impressed by Albicerius, a sorcerer who had helped him find a lost silver
spoon; this man could also ‘‘thought-read’’ lines from Virgil in the mind
of a proconsul. But according to Augustine, he lacked education; hence,
he could not be ‘‘good.’’ This may seem a curious verdict to us, but ever
since Cicero the word humanitas had had two meanings: ‘‘higher educa-
tion’’ and ‘‘human feeling’’; to lack the first would exclude one to a
certain degree from the second. But even among the educated, magic

75
 Arcana Mundi

was popular because it helped explain misfortune.∞≠≠ For Christians and

pagans alike, any sort of misfortune—an accident, an illness, even a night-
mare—could be the work of superhuman agents, daemons who either
acted on their own or were manipulated by an enemy. The Christian
Church, in fact, found it convenient to attribute misfortune to the power
of witchcraft. Some theologians believed that God had given the dae-
mons authority to act as his ‘‘public executioners’’ (Origen, c. Cels. 8.31),
to punish the human race for Adam’s sin. Thus the world had become a
playground for daemons, an area where they could release their destruc-
tive urges: ‘‘He has sent upon them the anger of His indignation and rage
and tribulation and possession by evil spirits’’ (Psalms 78:49).
Libanius, a contemporary of Augustine’s, reacted to bad dreams as if
they were symptoms of magical spells and curses.∞≠∞ Whenever a person
felt inadequate in relation to his or her image (a lecturer forgot the speech
he had memorized; a highly respectable lady fell in love with a man
socially far beneath her), black magic was thought to be at work. Thus it
is not always just misfortune, but misfortune accompanied by a sense of
shame or guilt, that leads one to suspect magical interference.
Gregory the Great (end of the sixth century A.D.) warned that any
woman who slept with her husband on the eve of a religious procession
was practically inviting a daemon to possess her, and that a nun who ate
lettuce without first making the sign of the cross on it might swallow a
daemon perched on its leaves. Daemons were everywhere, and only the
Church could give protection.∞≠≤
Theodoret (Hist. Rel. 13) tells the story of a girl who had become the
victim of a love spell, and of Saint Macedonius, who was brought in to
exorcise her. The daemon who had taken possession of her excused
himself and, naming the sorcerer who had summoned him, declared that
he could not leave her easily because he had entered her under great
stress. The girl’s father then lodged a complaint against that sorcerer
before the governor, but Saint Macedonius managed to chase the dae-
mon away before it could be used as a witness in court.∞≠≥ The story
shows that the Church was able to deal with daemons, but is also shows
that the Church accepted the fact of possession by the agency of witch-
craft. These daemons had been sent by someone outside the Church, and
it was the Church’s duty to counteract their evil power.
The belief in daemons is much older than Plato, but it found a home in
Platonism and Neoplatonism, and if philosophers, on the authority of
Plato, spoke of daemons as real, it is clear that the common people,
Christians and pagans alike, also were looking for ways in which to deal
with them. The Bible did not o√er much technical knowledge—Jesus’
exorcisms are always unique and could not be duplicated from any infor-

76
 Magic

mation given in the Gospels—so even the Christians sought guidance

elsewhere, in the ancient magical traditions.
The Neoplatonists—at least some of them—became the most ardent
defenders of ritual magic and theurgy, perhaps as part of a last e√ort to
suppress Christianity. Plotinus (c. A.D. 205–270), the founder of the
school, seems to have had psychic powers [no. 33] and certainly took
magic seriously [no. 32], though it is doubtful he should be called a
magician.∞≠∂ He believed that the soul was clothed in an ethereal cover-
ing, the ochema, which was illuminated by divine light so that spirits and
souls (or daemons) could be seen. The soul itself could ascend toward the
Absolute through ecstasy. Perhaps one could say that certain inexplicable
things went on around him, and no doubt after his death his students
speculated a great deal about what had really happened.
Porphyry (c. A.D. 232–304), in his Letter to Anebo, criticizes the exag-
gerated claims of certain Egyptian theurgists: they threatened to frighten
not only the daemons, or the spirits of the dead, but the Sun and the
Moon and other divine beings of higher order; they pretended to be able
to shake the heavens, to reveal the mysteries of Isis or interfere at a
distance with her sacred rites. How can blatant lies force the gods to tell
the truth? And why do the Egyptian theurgists insist that Egyptian is the
only language these gods understand? What Porphyry attacks is not the
theory that magic works, but the techniques employed by its Egyptian
practitioners and their blatant self-advertisement.
Iamblichus (c. A.D. 240–330), another Neoplatonist, replies to Por-
phyry’s letter in a work entitled On the Mysteries of Egypt [no. 34], which is
basically a defense of ritual magic and theurgy and which deals, from a
philosophical point of view, with the techniques of inducing the presence
of daemons or gods.∞≠∑ Iamblichus firmly believes that the world is man-
aged by a host of daemons and that the magician-priest, if he has been
duly initiated and trained, can get in touch with these subordinate deities
and control them to a certain degree. In this work, which is an important
source for understanding religious feeling in antiquity, Iamblichus de-
scribes in detail the visions he has had of spirits, probably hallucinations in
a half-waking state.
The full-scale persecution of magic by the state begins in the fourth
century A.D.∞≠∏ The emperors clearly felt uncomfortable at the thought
that astrologers might be able to predict their death accurately and that
magicians might put a curse on them. At times even the wearing of an
amulet was considered a crime. In a parallel movement, the Church now
also condemned witchcraft, but for di√erent reasons. The fears of the
Church were not unfounded, for the emperor Julian, ‘‘the Apostate’’
(A.D. 361–363), rejected the Christian faith and tried to restore the old

77
 Arcana Mundi

religion. From that point on, the two ruling forces of the empire, Roman
law and the Church, combined to fight witchcraft, and this alliance
continued into the Middle Ages.

Ancient Magic and Psychic Research Today

Many phenomena described in ancient texts as magical feasts might now
be called paranormal, supernormal, or parapsychical.∞≠π Today, parapsy-
chology has become an academic subject, and experiences similar to
those reported by ancient authors have been observed and studied over a
long period of time. Experiments have been conducted in order to un-
derstand the nature of extrasensory perception (ESP), telepathy, psycho-
kinesis, and the like, and the literature available is enormous. In some
ways we have come a little closer to understanding the stories and specu-
lations that have reached us from antiquity. If telepathy is real, we can no
longer dismiss as fraud stories like the vision of Sosipatra [no. 51]. Of
course, there were cases of fraud: supernatural lights and voices could be
created by simple devices. From Hippolytus (Haer. 4.35) we hear of a
glass-bottomed cauldron of water that was placed over a small skylight,
and of a seer who, gazing into the cauldron, saw in its depths various
daemons, who were actually the magician’s accomplices in the room
below.∞≠∫ People wanted to see daemons, so a clever operator gave them
daemons. Whenever a magician makes grandiose claims, charges a fee,
and then produces certain special e√ects, we ought to be suspicious. But
there also seem to be cases that are above suspicion.
Labeling phenomena reported by Greek and Roman writers with
modern terms does not really explain them, and it can confuse the issue.
Telepathy, for instance, is derived from two Greek words (tele ‘at a dis-
tance’ and pathos ‘experience’), but, coined in the nineteenth century
A.D., it was never used by the ancient Greeks. Similarly, medium looks
like a Latin word and is a Latin word, but it was never used by Latin
authors in antiquity to describe a person who helped the living commu-
nicate with the spirits of the dead; in this sense, this term too was coined
only in the nineteenth century. These terms are useful, but they do not
explain what really happens. Mediumship may be a real supernormal phe-
nomenon and yet have nothing to do with messages or manifestations
from the spirit world. In short, such things may happen, but the tradi-
tional explanation is false.
The main di≈culty consists in applying modern terms to events and
experiences described by ancient sources, for even if the modern term
seems to fit, we should not assume that simply because it has a label the
phenomenon is now explained once and for all. Where an ancient author

78
 Magic

speaks of his visions, we might use the term state of consciousness; where
an ancient author uses the term ecstasy, we might prefer trance. Ever
since William James breathed in nitrous oxide for the first time, we have
known that our normal waking consciousness is but one particular state
of consciousness, and that there are others, potential or real, that are
separated from it only by a screen, as it were.
Thus the psychical research∞≠Ω done over the past century or so is
valuable for our understanding of occult science in the ancient world
as long as we keep these di≈culties in mind. Moreover, as Dodds has
pointed out, there is a di√erence between the occultist and the psychical
researcher: ‘‘The occultist, as his name betokens, values the occult qua
occult: that is for him its virtue, and the last thing he will thank you for is
an explanation. . . . The genuine psychical researcher . . . is attracted to
[occult phenomena] because he believes that they can and should be
explained, being as much a part of nature as any other facts. . . . Far from
wishing to pull down the lofty edifice of science, his highest ambition is
to construct a modern annex which will serve, at least provisionally, to
house his new facts.’’∞∞≠ Much of this cannot yet be explained. Dodds
quotes from Augustine (De Gen. ad Litt. 12.18) as follows: ‘‘If any one can
trace the causes and modes of operation of these visions and divinations
and really understand them, I had rather hear his views than be expected
to discuss the subject myself.’’∞∞∞ But Augustine does not doubt the reality
of the visions themselves.∞∞≤
Telepathy, mediumship, and automatism are among the most useful terms
in our attempt to understand ‘‘occult’’ phenomena in the ancient world,
but they do not all belong in the sphere of ‘‘magic.’’ Telepathy could be
discussed in the chapter on divination. For a Greek or a Roman, medi-
umship would have been a case of possession and hence might seem to
belong in the chapter on daemonology. The question is, Should we put
ourselves in the position of the ancients and use their concepts and terms?
Up to a point this might be useful, but there is also some value in testing
the modern terms by applying them to experiences that were felt to be
‘‘magical’’ or ‘‘miraculous’’ by the ancient narrators.
The vision of Sosipatra, as reported by Eunapius (Lives of the Philoso-
phers and Sophists [no. 51]), is a good example of supernatural knowledge
of an event that happened (at that very moment, it would appear) at a
distance from the seer and was verified soon afterward. Livy relates how
his friend, the augur Caius Cornelius, actually saw Caesar’s victory over
Pompey at Pharsalus, thousands of miles away (Plut., Caes. 47; Gell.,
Noct. Att. 15.18), and there are other stories of this kind, usually involving
important battles. Should this be called ‘‘telepathy’’ or ‘‘clairvoyance’’?
Or is it that ‘‘sixth sense’’ which, according to Democritus,∞∞≥ ‘‘animals,

79