What do Werewolves, Christian hymns, and My Fair Lady all have in common? On the surface, there doesn't seem to be any connecting link between these dissimilar topics. Werewolves, next to vampires, are likely the most familiar creature in modern mythology, and have been featured on the big screen as far back as 1935 in Werewolf of London, to more modern films like Twilight, Harry Potter, and the Underworld series (which helped skyrocket the term 'lycanthropy' back into modern vernacular), not to mention the countless books which feature werewolves, including my own upcoming Gray trilogy. Legends of werewolves can be traced back thousands of years, into the gloomy and distant past; so far, in fact, that their origins are a mystery which even Sherlock Holmes could not crack. Christian hymns – or at least, songs of praise to God – can be traced as far back as Moses in Exodus 15, when the Egyptian army was crushed by the waters of the Red Sea, and the Israelites decided that the only logical response to this was the performance of a musical number. This is also quite possibly the only recorded case where a large group of people spontaneously broke into a well-coordinated impromptu song and dance routine, just like what happens in your favorite musical!
Speaking of your favorite musical, what does 'My Fair Lady' possibly have to do with werewolves or hymns? Despite the popularity of the songs from My Fair Lady, written by Frederick Loewe and Alan Jay Lerner, nobody would expect to find them in your standard church hymnal. And though the 1956 musical starred Julie Andrews and Rex Harrison (while the 1964 film starred Audrey Hepburn in lieu of Julie Andrews) who were all widely popular, none of these people were werewolves (so far as we know). The movie was based on a 1913 play by the unwieldy name of Pygmalion, written by George Bernard Shaw, and named after the legendary Greek figure bearing the same name. In the Greek legend, Pygmalion is a sculptor who falls in love with one of his sculptures, which then comes to life. It is likely that he is forced into this strange obsession by the fact that no living woman will date someone
named 'Pygmalion'. In the modern play, a rich aristocrat takes on the job of 'sculpting' an uneducated peasant woman into a refined woman of class, and then falls in love with her. (A point of interest here is that in the modern telling of Pygmalion, the woman is alive throughout the entire play.) Yet all these interesting facts bring us no closer to what these topics all have in common.
My Fair... Minister?
The answer lies in a simple preacher from Exeter named Sabine Baring-Gould, who, like Julie Andrews, was also not a werewolf (probably). But first, I must start at the beginning. Baring-Gould was born in 1834 into the wealthy family of Baring-Goulds who owned the Lewtrenchard estate in west Devon. His early education at King's School was cut short at the age of twelve by a bad case of whooping cough, and he was sent to the country to regain his health. Though his grades were decidedly average, he earned first his Bachelor's degree and then his Master's from Cambridge before the age of thirty. Despite the wishes of his parents, he decided to become a minister, and took orders at the age of thirty-four to become a curate in Horbury. The next events of Baring-Gould's life might sound strangely familiar.
In the same year that Baring-Gould received the curacy at Horbury, he met a young woman by the name of Grace Taylor. While the thirty year old Baring-Gould came from a wealthy family, and was well-educated, with two degrees from Cambridge, Grace Taylor was only sixteen, totally illiterate, uneducated, and poor, making enough money to survive as a mill-worker. The two were apparently quite struck with each other, but recognized the problem of marriage between two people so totally different in education and background. Baring-Gould consequently took it upon himself to solve this dilemma and funded her education for two years. Upon her return from school two years later, he promptly married her, despite the protests from both sets of parents, who felt that the two would still be highly incompatible. Yet, evidence proved otherwise. Sabine and Grace Baring-Gould remained married for forty-eight years, until her death in 1916, and created fifteen additional Baring-Goulds along the way. And yes, it is this happy true-story romance that inspired Baring-Gould's good friend, George Bernard Shaw, to write a play titled 'Pygmalion', which subsequently inspired the immensely popular play, My Fair Lady.
Baring-Gould's Works
Baring-Gould was always first a minister, but also a prolific writer, not only of sermons, but novels, biographies, poems, and songs. He is recognized as a hagiographer, antiquarian, novelist, and scholar, both of religion and history. Like myself (if I dare be so bold), his books stretched from topics on Christianity (The lives of the Saints) to ghost stories (Mehalah) to mythology (Curious Myths of the Middle Ages). He was considered one of the top ten writers of his day, but much of his earnings was given back to his parish. Upon the death of his father in 1872, he inherited the three-thousand acre estate of Lewtrenchard, which included a parish, but Baring-Gould refrained from taking it over until the previous minister died in 1881, allowing him to become the owner as well as local minister.
Baring-Gould's interests were vast, and included songs of all kinds. He spent much time in collecting and recording folk songs from the areas of Devon and Cornwall, compiling them into a book titled Songs of the West. This collection of folk songs was the first of its kind to be published for the mass market, rather than for a specific collector, but many of these songs are long forgotten. It is not these songs, but a song written by Baring-Gould himself, that truly left a mark on modern Christianity. The now-famous hymn was written only two years after he became a minister, and yet is still familiar to millions of people around the world.
In Yorkshire at the time, it was the custom to observe the day after Pentecost, and hold a special service. As he preached that Sunday, known as Whitsunday, he felt a deep, troubling sense that there should be a song to rally the spirits on the long walk from the village to the Sunday School rally, which was being held in a neighboring village, a considerable distance from the village of Horbury. Throughout the day, the sense grew, until that evening, Baring-Gould finally decided to undertake the task of writing a song to inspire the youth on their way to the service, and completed it in a single night. On Whitmonday, the following day, Baring-
Gould taught the song to the children, and his band of believers arrived at the special service in lock-step, singing in cadence with their steps a brand new hymn entitled 'Onward Christian
Soldiers'. Written at the height of the movement which would eventually be known as 'Muscular Christianity', the song became an instant classic.
The Sherlock Holmes of the Supernatural
Sabine Baring-Gould was interested in all manner of topics, and unlike some ministers, was unafraid of delving into what others would avoid as strange or even unholy. Though a minister, he was able to examine topics from a logical and scientific perspective, which is a trait often sadly lacking among ministers. While many Christians today do not dare dabble with 'the dark arts', even with the intent of shedding light upon them, and shrink back in fear when topics of demons, werewolves, vampires, or other unholy creatures are mentioned, Baring-Gould was graced with Christian boldness, and did not fear to bring light where others feared to tread. It is this boldness for investigating the unnatural that led Baring-Gould to investigate the history of werewolves.
It can be said without insult that Baring-Gould was a bit eccentric, and interested in, if not fascinated by, the macabre. Smashing to bits the stereotype of the dainty minister: almost feminine in his manners, squeamish and sensitive, emotional and timorous, Baring-Gould was active and hardy, resolute, and fearless, as all Christians should be. He developed his attributes as a scholar without losing his sense of the masculine – or of the peculiar. As a young minister, he kept a pet bat, which often sat upon his shoulder during his sermons. It is unknown how this peculiar friendship arose, but the imagery is striking. While others might view the hideous bat as the witch's familiar, a harbinger of evil, Baring-Gould, rather than shunning this creature, or the imagery it might place him under, took this loathed creature and placed it upon his own shoulder, bringing it inside the very house of God, as if to mock the devil's claim upon it.
One of the first stories which Baring-Gould relates in The Book of Werewolves, published in 1865, was one relating to Baring-Gould himself. Baring-Gould had a fascination with ancient ruins, as well as ancient mythology, and took every opportunity to view them. The first research and preservation of the ancient hut-circles at Dartmoor was funded and undertaken by Baring-Gould, along with his friend, Robert Burnard, in 1893. It was upon a similar excursion to see some ancient ruins that Baring-Gould first learned of werewolves.
He had decided to investigate some ancient Druidic ruins near La Rondelle, but had underestimated the time it would take him to walk the ten miles from the nearest village to the ruins, and arrived near sunset. He spent the fleeting daylight hours in sketching the ruins, and then walked back to the nearest village in the dark, in hopes of renting a carriage or horse. Unfortunately, no carriage or horse was to be found, and since Baring-Gould was leaving early the following morning, he could not spend the night.
The village mayor was surprised at Baring-Gould's insistence on returning at night, and a great discussion arose regarding the 'loup-garou'. Baring-Gould had never heard this term before, and it was explained by his interpreter that the villagers feared a werewolf, which had been spotted only the night before. The mayor decided that if Baring-Gould was still insistent on returning at night, someone must be chosen to go with him, to lessen the risk of attack by the werewolf, yet no volunteers were willing to risk it. The mayor explained that “If the loup-garou were only a natural wolf, why then, you see... you see we should think nothing of it; but monsieur le Curé, it is a fiend, a worse than fiend, a man-fiend – a worse than man-fiend, a man-wolf-fiend.”
After this explanation, Baring-Gould replied that he would simply walk back alone, and that “if I meet the loup-garou I will crop his ears and tail, and send them to monsieur le Maire with my compliments.” This bold declaration was taken with great relief by the mayor and his listeners, and the apparent sincerity of the men's fears inspired Baring-Gould to thoroughly investigate the subject – after he arrived home safely. Baring-Gould's The Book of Werewolves is still one of the most cited sources in regards to werewolf lore. The wolves from Twilight, the lycans of the Underworld films, and other modern werewolves all exist because of Baring-Gould. Every time you see a werewolf, you can thank (or blame) a Christian minister. What Hans Christian Anderson did for mermaids, and Bram Stoker did for vampires, Baring-Gould did for werewolves, dragging myth and legend from the forgotten past and placing it into the modern spotlight. Without it, the werewolf would join the ranks of lesser-known mythical creatures like Lamias, Basilisks, Troluals, or Blemmyes.
The Horrible Truth
My own short story, Saint Nicholas Day, is in large part inspired by Baring-Gould's account of the trial of the Maréchal de Retz, which took place in France in 1440. This account is the first well-documented trial of a genuine serial killer. Did Baring-Gould believe in werewolves? Yes and no. In fair warning, The Book of Werewolves covers some of the most horrific factual accounts of murder, madness, and cannibalism that I have ever read. It may seem a shocking subject for a Christian minister to undertake, but Christians should not shy away from evil, or seek to hide it. It is the mission of the Christian man to expose and confront evil, no matter how grizzly or horrific it may be, and Baring-Gould does just that.
His research begins with the etymology of the word 'werewolf' and the many variations of the term. Legends of werewolves or werewolf-type creatures exist in cultures all over the world. African legends speak of men who can become hyenas, Native American legends speak of men who can become wolves, Oriental folklore is also rife with their own version of the werewolf, and let us not forget the Berserkers of the Norseman, who legend claimed could assume the form of a wolf or a bear, depending on which tale you hear, and gain the strength of both man and beast when they 'went berserk'. The simplest answer regarding the conclusion which Baring-Gould reached is that the legends of lycanthropy come from a combination of language drift, real experiences, mythological growth, and madness.
Mythology from all cultures is filled with stories of people changing into animals through some magic potion or an evil curse, but it is interesting to note that in many European languages, the same term we now recognize as meaning 'werewolf' was often used to indicate a brutish, criminal, cruel, or insane person, often an outcast. Even today, we might refer to a person as a 'lone wolf', or say 'he was a real bear today' without suggesting in any way that they transformed into such an animal. The Viking Berserkers often wore wolfskin or bearskin cloaks over their armor, and when the wolf or bear's face was pulled over the face of the man, the resemblance to a werewolf would be uncanny. The peculiar madness of the Berserker rapidly became linked with the same term, and in many ancient documents, the various synonyms of the 'werewolf' were used to describe the violently insane, without any indication of transformation.
The Acts of an Animal
Baring-Gould describes several well-documented cases from the Middle-ages where people were legally charged with the crime of lycanthropy. Some of these deranged maniacs express sincere belief that they were changed into the shape of a wolf, but never is any evidence given to prove this actually occurred. The charge of lycanthropy was indication of a person acting like a wolf, not becoming one. And such cases did occur. Several accounts are given of people who were driven to cannibalism through starvation, drug use, or sheer madness, and hunted down local livestock and yes, children, for food. Several years ago, rumors of 'zombies' spread from the man who chewed off someone's face while high on bath salts, and shocking as this story was, it was hardly the first such case. Baring-Gould documents others which are strangely similar. These cases are a matter of historical fact. In modern times, people would refer to these deranged maniacs as psychopaths or serial killers, but in the Middle-ages, they were called something else: Werewolves.
There are only two points which I believe add greatly to the legends of werewolves that Baring-Gould hardly touches. The first is the fact of feral children. In fiction, Tarzan and Mowgli from The Jungle Book fall into this category, but the reality is more grim. Dina Sanichar inspired the story of Mowgli, and he, like other recorded cases of feral children raised by wolves or other animals, would have been considered werewolves throughout the middle ages – and likely were. Feral children are not only a modern occurrence. These poor souls do not change shape, but Dina went on all fours, and spoke only in howls and growling noises, like a wolf. He fits the Middle-Age description of a werewolf perfectly, and at least one of the stories recorded by Baring-Gould include what would today be considered a feral child.
The Face of an Animal
The other point which Baring-Gould completely neglects is the medical condition known as hypertrichosis (also known as werewolf syndrome), which causes unnaturally thick hair growth on the face and body. One of the most famous cases of this is the case of Stephan Bibrowski, who had inch-long hair covering his entire body, and longer hair all over his face. His mother considered him an abomination, and gave him to a circus at the age of four. He was known as the 'Lion-faced Man' and performed for a circus, purported as having the strength and ferocity of a lion. In real life, Stephan was gentle, highly intelligent, and spoke multiple languages. He loved performing, and by all accounts lived a very pleasant life. Another such example is Petrus Gonsalvus, born as a slave in the 1500's and given to King Henry II of France, where he led a highly successful life among the aristocracy. Legends of the Scottish Wulver and the Irish Faoladh likely were inspired by outcasts with this condition. Unlike other werewolf legends, the Wulver and Faoladh were a race of wolf-headed people, and generally considered unable to change their shape. One Scottish legend speaks of a certain village that was on the point of starvation, but was saved by a Wulver who would bring fish to the villagers every night. This story is likely based on true events, and almost certainly is the result of a person or persons who were outcast as a werewolf, due to hypertrichosis, and who returned in secret to help this village in time of need.
I firmly believe that all legend and myth is based on a seed of reality. The countless stories of werewolves from across the globe must then contain an element of truth, and indeed, such is the case. Though there is no evidence to suggest that men can transform into animals, there are factual cases of evil men who appear human, but who act like animals, and cases of good men who look like animals, but act with kindness and wisdom. The sad reality is that many of these people did not get the happy life that Stephan and Petrus were given, but were paraded and treated as sub-human 'missing-links' by Secular Darwinists hoping to prove the validity of their theory. If one is searching for the cruel savagery of the werewolf, one need look no further than the human heart. We should be glad that while 'man looks on the outward appearance, the Lord looks on the heart.” I am sure a wise minister, bearing a bat upon his shoulder, would agree when I say, should we not do the same?
For more information on werewolves, Baring-Gould, or my short stories and novels, check out these links:
Saint Nicholas Day - a free short story available on my website, written by me!
Grayscale - by Paul Campbell
The Book of Werewolves, by Sabine Baring-Gould - available for free by Project Gutenberg
More on Sabine Baring-Gould - by Dr. Stephen Flick
The Real life Mowgli - by Maria Milojkovic
The Scottish Wulver and Irish Faoladh - Amanda Bergloff
10 Amazing People with Hypertrichosis - Theta O'Neal
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