Lore - Episode 3: The Beast Within
Episode Date: April 6, 2015In 1582, the German town of Bedburg was ravaged by a violent and mysterious creature. After untold bloodshed, the townsfolk took up arms and hunted the monster down. What they found was something out ...of our deepest nightmares, and entirely too close to home. ———————————————— 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.
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Ask anyone in the mental health profession about full moons, and you'll get a surprising
answer.
They'll respond with something that sounds incredibly like folklore and myth.
The full moon has the power to bring out the crazy in people.
We've believed this for a long time.
We refer to unstable people as lunatics, a word that is Latin.
It's built from the root word luna, which means moon.
And for centuries has operated under the conviction that changes in the lunar cycle can cause
people to lose touch with reality.
Just ask the parents of a young child, and they'll tell you tales of wild behavior and
out of the ordinary disobedience at certain times of the month.
Science tells us that just as the moons pull on the ocean, creates tides that rise and
fall in severity, so too does our planet's first satellite tug on the water inside our
bodies, changing our behavior.
As modern people, when we talk about the full moon, we tend to joke about this insane, extraordinary
behavior.
But maybe we joke to avoid the deeper truth, an idea that we are both frightened and embarrassed
that we even entertain.
For most of us, you see, the full moon conjures up an image that is altogether unnatural and
unbelievable.
That large, glowing, perfect circle in the night sky makes us think of just one thing,
werewolves.
I'm Aaron Mankey, and this is Lore.
This has tried many times over the years to explain our obsession with the werewolf.
One theory is a disease known as hypertrichosis, sometimes known as wolfitis.
It's a condition of excessive, unusual body hair growth, oftentimes covering the person's
entire face.
Think Michael J. Fox in Teen Wolf.
This actually has an official diagnosis in the DSM-4 handbook, known as clinical lycanthropy.
It's defined as a delusional syndrome where the patient believes they can transform into
an animal.
But the changes only take place in their mind, of course.
Delusions, though, have to start somewhere.
Patients who believe they are Napoleon Bonaparte have some previous knowledge of who he was.
I think it's fair to assume that those who suffer from clinical lycanthropy have heard
of werewolves before.
It's actually pretty easy to bump into the myth thanks to modern popular culture.
Werewolves have been featured in, or at least appeared in, close to 100 films in Hollywood
since 1913.
One of the earliest mentions of something even resembling the modern werewolf can actually
be found in the 2,000-year-old writings of the Roman poet Virgil.
In his Eclog 9, written about 40 BCE, he described a man named Moeris who could transform himself
into a wolf using herbs and poisons.
About 50 years later, Gaius Petronius wrote a satirical novel called, appropriately, Satiricon,
which I think is basically the equivalent of Stephen King writing a horror novel called,
Friticon.
In it, he tells the tale of a man named Nicarose.
In the story, Nicarose was traveling with a friend, and when that friend suddenly took
off his clothes, urinated in a circle and transformed into a wolf right before his eyes, before
running off toward a large field of sheep.
The next day, Nicarose was told by the sheep owner that one of the shepherds stabbed a
wolf in the neck with a pitchfork.
Later that day, Nicarose noticed that his friend, now returned to the house, had a similar
wound on his neck.
In the Greek myth of the god Zeus and an Arcadian king named Lycaon, Zeus took on the form
of a human traveler.
At one point in his journey, he visited Arcadia, and during his time in that country, he visited
their royal court.
The king of the land, Lycaon, somehow recognized Zeus for who he truly was and tried, in true
Greek form of course, to kill him, by serving him a meal of human flesh.
But Zeus was a smart guy after all, and he caught Lycaon in the act, throwing the mythological
equivalent of a temper tantrum.
He destroyed the palace, killed all 50 of the king's sons with lightning bolts, and
then of course cursed King Lycaon himself.
The punishment?
Lycaon would be doomed to spend the rest of his life as a wolf, presumably because wolves
were known for attacking and eating humans and he tried to serve human flesh.
Most scholars believe that this legend is what gives birth to the term Lycanthropy,
Lycos being the Greek word for wolf and Anthropos, the word for man.
Werewolves aren't just a Greco-Roman thing.
In the 13th century, the Norse recorded their mythological origins in something called the
Volsangasaga.
Despite their culture being separated from the Greeks by thousands of miles and many
centuries, there are in fact tales of werewolves present in their histories.
One of the stories in the Volsangasaga involves a father and son pair, Sigmund and Sinfjotli.
During their travels, the two men came upon a hut in the woods where they found two enchanted
wolf skins.
These skins had the power to change the wearer into a wolf, giving them all the characteristics
that the beast was known for, power, speed, and cunning.
The catch, according to the saga, was that once put on, the wolf pelts could only be
taken off every ten days.
When deterred, the father and son duo each put on one of the wolf skins and transformed
into the beasts.
They decided to split up and go hunting in their new forms, but they made an arrangement
that if either of them encountered a party of men over the certain size of seven, then
they were supposed to howl for the other to come join them in the hunt.
Sigmund's son, however, broke his promise, killing off a hunting party of eleven men.
When Sigmund discovered this, he fatally injured his son.
After the god Odin intervened and healed him, both men took off the pelts and burned them.
Is he?
From the very beginning, werewolves were a supernatural thing, a curse, a change in the
very nature of humanity.
They were ruled by cycles of time and feared by those around them.
Things get interesting when we go to Germany.
In 1582, the country of Germany was being pulled apart by a war between Catholics and
Protestants, and one of the towns that played host to both sides was the small town of Bedburg.
Keep in mind that there were also still outbreaks of the Black Death, so this was an age of
conflict and violence.
People understood loss, they had become numb to it, and it would take something incredibly
extraordinary to surprise them.
First, there were cattle mutilations.
Farmers from the area surrounding Bedburg would find dead cattle in their fields.
It started off infrequent, but grew to become a daily occurrence, something that went on
for weeks.
Cowes that had been sent out to pasture were found torn apart.
It was as if a wild animal had attacked them.
Naturally, the farmers assumed it was wolves, but it didn't stop there.
Women began to go missing.
Young women vanished from the main roads around Bedburg.
In some cases, their bodies were never found, but those that were had been mauled by something
horribly violent.
Finding your cattle disemboweled is one thing, but when it's your daughter or your wife,
well, it can cause panic and fear, and so the community spiraled into hysteria.
Now, we think of historical European paranoia, and we often think of witchcraft.
The 15th and 16th centuries were filled with witch hunts, burnings, hangings, and an overwhelming
hysteria that even spread across the Atlantic to the British colonies where it destroyed
more lives.
The witch trials of Salem, Massachusetts, are the most famous of those examples.
But at the same time, Europe was also on fire with fear of werewolves.
Some historians think that in France alone, some 30,000 people were accused of being werewolves,
and some hundreds, they say, were even executed for it, either by hanging or being burned
at the stake.
You see, the fear of werewolves was real, and for the town of Bedburg, it was very real.
One report from this event tells of two men and a woman who were traveling just outside
the city walls.
They heard a voice call out to them for help from within the trees beside the road, and
one of the men stepped into the trees to give assistance.
When he didn't return, the second man entered the woods to find him, and he also didn't
return.
The woman caught on, attempted to run, but something exited the woods and attacked her.
The bodies of the men were later found, mangled and torn apart, but the woman's never was.
Later villagers found severed limbs in the fields near Bedburg, limbs from the people
who were missing.
It was clear that something horrible was hunting them.
Another report tells of a group of children playing in a field near the cattle.
As they played, something ran into the field and grabbed a small girl by the neck before
trying to tear her throat out.
Thankfully, the high collar on her dress actually saved her life, and she managed to
scream.
Now, cows don't like screaming, apparently, and they began to stampede.
Created by the cattle, the attacker let go of the girl, and ran for the forest.
And this was the last straw for the people of Bedburg.
They took the hunt to the beast.
According to a pamphlet from 1589, the men of the town hunted for the creature for days.
Accompanied by dogs and armed for killing, these brave men ventured into the forest and
finally found it.
In the end, it was the dogs that cornered the beast.
Dogs are fast, and they beat the men to their prey.
When the hunters finally did arrive, they found the creature cornered.
According to the pamphlet, the wolf transformed into a man right before their eyes.
While the wolf had been just another beast, the man was someone they recognized.
He was a wealthy, well-respected farmer from town, named Peter Stubbe, sometimes recorded
as Peter Stump.
Stubbe confessed to it all, and his story seemed to confirm their darkest fears.
He told them that he had made a pact with the devil at the age of 12.
The deal?
In exchange for his soul, the devil would give him a plethora of worldly pleasures.
Like most stories, a greedy heart is difficult to satisfy.
Stubbe admitted to being a, and I quote, wicked fiend with the desire for wrong and destruction,
that he was inclined to blood and cruelty.
Now, to say that thirst, the devil had given him a magical belt of wolfskin.
Putting it on, he claimed, would transform him into the monstrous shape of a wolf.
Sound familiar?
He told the men that had captured him that he had taken off the belt in the forest, and
some were sent back to retrieve it, but it was never found.
Still, superstition and fear drove them to torture and interrogate the man, who confessed
to decades of horrible, unspeakable crimes.
Well known around the town, Stubbe told his captors that he would often walk through Bedburg
and wave to the families and friends of those he had killed.
It delighted him, he said, that none of them suspected that he was the killer.
Sometimes he would use these walks to pick out future victims, planning how he would
get them outside the city walls, where he could, and I quote, ravish and cruelly murder
them.
Stubbe even admitted to going on killing sprees, simply because he took pleasure in the bloodshed.
He would kill lambs and goats and eat their raw flesh.
He even claimed to have eaten unborn children, ripped straight from their mother's wombs.
The human mind is always solving problems, even when we're asleep and unaware of it.
The world is full of things that don't always sit right with us, and in our attempt to deal
with life, we rationalize.
In more superstitious times, it was easy to lean on old fears and legends.
The tuberculosis outbreaks of the 1800s led people to truly believe that the dead were
sucking the life out of the living.
The stories that gave birth to the vampire mythology also provided people with a way
to process tuberculosis and its horrible symptoms.
Perhaps the story of the werewolf shows us that same phenomenon, but in reverse.
Rather than creating stories that help explain the mysteries of death, perhaps we created
the story of the werewolf to help justify the horrors of life and human nature.
The tale of Peter Stubbe sounds terrible, but when you hold it up to modern-day serial
killers such as Jeffrey Dahmer or Richard Trenton Chase, it's par for the course.
The difference between them and Stubbe is simply 400 years of modernization.
With the advent of electrical lights pushing away the darkness and global exploration exposing
much of the world's fears to be just myth, it's become more and more difficult to blame
our flaws on monsters.
The beast, it turns out, has been inside us the whole time.
And Peter Stubbe?
The people of Bedburg executed him for his crimes.
On October 31st, 1589, Halloween, mind you, he was given what was thought to be a fair
and just punishment.
He was strapped, spread eagle and naked, to a large wooden wheel, and then his skin was
peeled off with red hot pincers.
He broke his arms and legs with the blunt end of an axe before finally turning the blade
over and chopping off his head.
His body was burned at the stake in front of the entire town, and then his torture wheel
was mounted on a tall pole topped with the statue of a wolf.
On top of that, they placed his severed head.
Justice, or just one more example of the cruelty of mankind.
Perhaps in the end, we're all really monsters, aren't we?
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This episode of lore was researched, written, and produced by me, Aaron Mankey.
Lore is much more than a podcast.
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Check them both out if you want more lore in your life.
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