http://www.straightdope.com/classics/a990507.html
This is in response to your assertion that the myth of vampirism has nothing to do with porphyria; frankly, I don’t buy it. To address your points:
1: you say that 200 diagnosed cases is too few for the spreading of a belief in vampires – but picture the social environment of feudal Transylvania. With a relatively small gene pool of nobles, a low population density and poor transport connections, there would often be cases of inbreeding. These are exactly the conditions that lead to noble families in which very rare genetic diseases become widespread; look at hemophilia in the Battenbergs, or the Habsburg abnormalities. Families would quickly realise that many of their children were being born with these problems, and learn to keep them out of sunlight and to do whatever else had shown good effects on others similarly afflicted. In effect, the afflicted families would quickly beome experts in treating the particular type of prophyria from which they suffered.
2: This is unconvincing: we have a “standard” vampire legend that agrees well with observed symptoms, but such myths are passed on by hearsay. People will embellish and change the stories, particularly if they don’t think they have any basis in fact. I’ll stick to the most common vampire myth, and I see good parallels with porphyria.
3: True, the heme that they need will be broken down by the digestive system, but what about the raw iron? In the modern world, porphyria sufferers can take simple chemical iron tablets to combat their anemia – but medieval transylvanians would have needed to get the iron in one form or another. Bear in mind that they would have seen this as some sort of curse, or in another way imbued it with religious connotations. Making the link between porphyria and blood is not impossible, especially as these people would have so many cases of the disease to go on.
As for the other points, I don’t think there’s any need to postulate further. How does this sound for a hypothesis:
In the inbred environment of the Romanian mountain nobility, the gene for a particular porphyria became common. The rise of dual recessives is the classic inbreeding depression. The noble houses found that they needed to keep their children away from the sun to prevent them from suffering terrible burns, but eventually realised that blood could alleviate their suffering. In a medical system dominated by the theory of the four humours, it would be one of the first things they would try. They also hushed it up, not telling their subjects.
The people in the villages became suspicious. Powerful forces were at work in the castle. There were counts whose faces were never seen, who were mad, long fanged, pale skinned; who craved blood, and would come to them looking for it (for indeed, wouldn’t the serfs who belonged to a lord be the logical source for the lifeblood he needed?). Nobles would generally be physically more powerful than their undernourished subjects, and any who took in large doses of protein rich blood would have the capacity to grow yet stronger, thus at least partially accounting for vampires’ extra powers. What is more, a man who lived his life by night and was accustomed to stealth, perhaps with an ability to climb rocks and trees (strength and need to do so) might be seen to have the ability to disappear. Leave the rest to a healthy dash of class struggle, suspicion of the unknown, and fearmongering.
This is wild conjecture, but it is completely plausible. A medical condition has been linked to a myth, both in cause (inbreeding) and symptoms (light sensitivity and iron appetite). Perhaps it isn’t true, but it seems more likely than people happening to make something up that was so similar to a possible reality. If it is, one must pity the real Counts Dracula of the past, unwell, hated by all, and locked away for their lives – possibly even believing that they were accursed of God.
I’m not for a moment suggesting that people with porphyria are vampires. I’m sure it’s a very nasty condition, and it’s always unpleasant to be taunted for something that is not one’s fault. However, the blame lies with those who abuse sufferers, not with those who point out a fascinating medical possibility for the rise of one of our culture’s strongest folk rumours. I don’t believe that political correctness should have any place in the evaluation of scientific theories – and I find this theory, in a modified form, fascinating and believable.
Rupert Griffiths
Trinity College
Cambridge
CB2 1TQ
UNITED KINGDOM
email/msn: swyves@hotmail.com