Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:04):
Welcome to Aaron Menke's Cabinet of Curiosities, a production of
iHeartRadio and Grimm and Mild. Our world is full of
the unexplainable, and if history is an open book, all
of these amazing tales right there on display, just waiting
for us to explore. Welcome to the Cabinet of Curiosities.
(00:36):
For hundreds of years, arguments and feuds were handled one
of two ways, either with a healthy conversation or with
a duel. Up until the late eighteenth century, those duels
were mostly carried out with swords, until guns became the
weapon of choice. Funny enough, the object of a duel
wasn't to kill the other person. It was only to
achieve a sense of justice that honor had been restored
(00:58):
to the wronged party. Now, a duel was considered an
appropriate way to seek retribution for a long time. But
what happened if someone felt that their honor had been
besmirched in a less serious way? Where did they go
for satisfaction? Well, if they were a German college student
in eighteen seventy one, then they had an alternative. According
to a book from that time, students at Leipsick University
(01:20):
would challenge each other to a special kind of face off,
but not one that would leave the other side bleeding
out from a bullet wound. Rather, they might pass out
from drinking too much alcohol. They were called beer duels,
and they were part of a lengthy set of rules
known as the Beer Code. According to the Code, students
usually male students, that is, would be split off into
(01:40):
two groups depending on their drinking abilities. Newcomers were called foxes,
while experienced drinkers were referred to as beer boys. A
fox could become a beer boy either by waiting two
semesters or passing a drinking test. Often, beer boys would
challenge each other to different drinking related competitions, such as
who could drink the most beer in a given period
(02:02):
of time. Anyone who declined the challenge faced ridicule and
embarrassment and even more drinking. But sometimes things got out
of hand and one drinker would offend a beer boy.
They might call them a name, like a sage or
a beer baby. When that happened, the wronged party would
challenge the offender to a beer duel. But there were
no swords or pistols in a beer duel. The only
(02:25):
weapon allowed was beer. I know you didn't see that
one coming, did you? And the rules were surprisingly complex.
Different challenges and responses were often given depending on whether
the offense had been carried out on purpose or accidentally.
Sometimes the offended party had to demand a beer duel himself,
and other times the offender had the option to call
(02:46):
for a duel either way, though these incidents always ended
the same way. Everyone drank a lot, and just as
with an actual duel involving weapons, challengers and challenges had
to choose their own second or representatives to handle the
logistics of each confrontation. Umpires maintained order and officiated the
proceedings as well. Considering these were drunk college students drinking
(03:10):
the night away, their rules were thorough and impressive. Now,
beer duels were only one manner of retribution. Beer boys
had other ways to demand justice for perceived offenses, such
as the order x plano. This gave any beer boy
the right to force a fox to drink, usually to
teach them a lesson for being too arrogant. Refusal to
(03:31):
drink led to more shame for the fox, and this
extended beyond the university. According to the rule book, any
man of a higher semester drinking in a nearby beer
village had the right to force someone lower to them
to drink, and if that person refused, the challenger was
allowed to dump his beer on their head. And finally,
(03:51):
the university beer code had something called the grand seravis.
This was reserved for those times when everybody has been
drinking for a while and they were too far gone
to see reason. If a beer boy felt insulted by
someone's remarks late into the evening, the grand seravus was
the equivalent of sworn testimony in a court of law.
Only what someone saw or heard during the course of
(04:13):
the evening could be spoken of in order to put
the matter to bed for good. The grand Seravus was
not to be used frivolously. It was the last resort
to settle any and all disputes, so as to avoid
further arguments or worse. I suppose it seems the Germans
have always been serious about their beer. The beer Code
is perfect evidence of their dedication. To offend a beer
(04:35):
boy was no joke. Lest you wanted to wind up
an object of ridicule or find yourself being peeled off
the floor after passing out from drinking. Perhaps something could
be learned from their rule book. Maybe we could avoid
a lot more problems in the world if we shared
a beer or three together every now and then. And
to that I say cheers. The sun blazed overhead as
(05:11):
the crowd gathered in the square, fanning themselves in the
tropical heat. Their soft murmurs quieted as the man of
the hour was led to his place on the gallows.
It was July seventh of seventeen thirty. Before the day
was out, the pirate Olivier Lavasieur would meet his end.
As the crowd watched, the wind weathered pirate pulled something
(05:32):
free from the strap around his neck. It was a
small locket. Find my treasure, he said in the French,
hardened by the wind and the waves, And as he
threw the necklace into the crowd, he shouted his last words.
Only one may understand it. Olivier Lavasieur's life ended that
hot summer day on the island of law Reunion, a
(05:52):
French colony off the coast of Madagascar, but his legend
was only beginning. Inside the dead man's locket was a
code that hid the location of one of the greatest
buried treasures in history, Olivier Lavasieur wasn't always a pirate.
Born sometime in the late sixteen eighties to a wealthy
family in northern France, he initially studied to become an
(06:14):
architect in the early seventeen hundreds, though he set his
sights instead on a naval career, so when France became
involved in the War of Spanish Secession, he received permission
from the king to sail as a privateer, plundering enemy
ships for the glory of France. By the time the
war ended in seventeen fourteen, Olivier found that he had
a taste for murder and mayhem on the high seas,
(06:36):
so when he was ordered to return to Paris instead,
he became a pirate, sailing under his own flag. Olivier
quickly gained a fearsome reputation too. He was known by
some as the Buzzard for the way that he stripped
gold from a ship like meat from a carcass. Others
called him the mouth in honor of the vicious verbal
lashings that he would give to his victims. He struck
(06:59):
terror cross the high seas, plundering ships from the Caribbean
and West Africa, all the way to the Indian Ocean,
which is where in seventeen twenty one he launched his
most famous attack. In April of that year, Olivier happened
upon a Portuguese galleon named Our Lady of the Cape,
leaving the Indian ports of Goa, ladened with treasures. Our
(07:20):
Lady had run into a storm, and, fearing that she
would sink, had dumped any extra weight. In this case,
that meant all seventy two of her cannons. Olivier and
her crew captured the ship easily and made off with
thousands of pounds of treasure. However, their biggest prize was
a huge cross of solid gold studded with rubies, emeralds,
(07:40):
and diamonds. The heist was legendary, and Olivier and his
crew were rich men a thousand times over. The story
even made its way into Robert Louis Stevenson's novel Treasure Island.
In seventeen twenty four, the French government offered amnesty to
any remaining French pirates sailing the seas. All they would
have to do is give up a large share of
their riches. Unwilling to part with his fortune, Olivier refused
(08:04):
amnesty and was hunted for six years. Finally, he was
caught in Madagascar in seventeen thirty and sentenced to hang,
and moments before he died, he tossed that necklace to
the crowd, which contained a cryptogram with seventeen lines. Hidden
somewhere in the code was the key to his great treasure.
Over the years, many have tried to decipher Olivier's code.
(08:27):
It's widely accepted that it's a pigeon cipher where letters
are replaced with symbols. What's not quite as easy to
figure out is what exactly the symbols spell out. After
many attempts over the years, a man named Reginald Cruz
Wilkins found a new lead in the nineteen forties. Reginald
believed that since the Night Templars used similar cipher's, Olivier's
(08:47):
code must have something to do with them. However, he
also hypothesized that it had something to do with the Freemasons,
King Solomon, or the twelve Labors of Hercules. Needless to say,
Reginald died in nineteen seventy seven without ever having cracked
the code. Even with Reginald's theories It's not clear what
exactly the cipher points to. It could be a map
(09:08):
or a riddle, but some believe the whole thing might
just be a hoax. Olivier Lavasieur was certainly a fabulously
wealthy pirate, but he died in seventeen thirty The first
mention of the code he supposedly gave to the crowd
at his execution wasn't until nineteen thirty four, two hundred
years after his death. Whether the code is a treasure
(09:31):
map straight out of Robert Lewis Stevenson or just an
elaborate hoax, people have dedicated their whole lives to discovering
the truth. So maybe, just maybe, hiding under the sand
on some long forgotten island, Olivier's treasure lies waiting. Here's
hoping after three hundred years, X still marks the spot.
(09:55):
I hope you've enjoyed today's guided tour of the Cabinet
of Curiosities. Subscribe for free on Apple Podcasts, or learn
more about the show by visiting Curiosities podcast dot com.
The show was created by me Aaron Mankey in partnership
with how Stuff Works. I make another award winning show
called Lore, which is a podcast, book series, and television show,
(10:18):
and you can learn all about it over at the
worldoflore dot com. And until next time, stay curious.