When deciding on an appropriate villain for my novel “Candy House” I wanted to learn about all the best villains in fiction and history.

One of my favorites is: The Baron von Ungern-Sternberg

Shortly after the Russian Revolution of 1914, a most unusual villain rose to power in Eastern Russia. Baron von Ungern-Sternberg claimed descent from a long line of warriors leading all the way back to Attila the Hun. Some said that the baron was brain damaged. His skull was supposedly cracked open like a nut, with grey matter on display for all to see. Photos of the baron don’t clearly show the back of his head and his cloven scull may just be a legend. There are, however, many reports from his men of veins pulsing from the Baron’s exposed brain when he was mad.

The Baron, it seems, was proud of his abnormal skull. He claimed he could wriggle inside a horse’s stomach. With his miniscule head he was able to enter the beast from either end. Sternberg claimed he did this to gain equanimity and composure. The horse into which he was wriggling, undoubtedly, did not feel as calm.

Sternberg was not a handsome fellow. His expression was lopsided and his grin twisted. On more than one occasion he was compared to a demon escaped from hell. Not only was he ugly, he was also a savage killer. His hobby was to enter a tavern, consume enough vodka to see double and then fire at the patrons. To his astonishment, he consistently hit fifty percent of those he aimed at.

Ungern-Sternberg gained a reputation as a victorious warrior while fighting the Reds during Russia’s civil war. He specialized in floggings and shootings. On his orders, men and women were beaten, hung, beheaded, disemboweled and subjected to countless other tortures that transformed them from living human beings into what one witness called a “bloody puddle.”

The Baron’s violent proclivities brought him success in the Russian army. He earned a promotion to Major General and was rewarded with the “highly desirable” territory of Siberia. Some Russians find Siberia inhospitable. The Baron, however, liked the icy wastelands of Genghis Khan’s homeland. He did not, however, like the events unfolding in Russia. In 1920 Ungern-Sternberg decided that monarchy was the only kind of government for him. He split with the Bolsheviks of Russia who seemed to be going another way. He, with his army, invaded neighboring Mongolia and declared himself King.

The new King had an idea – by killing people he was doing them a favor. If people were so feeble they couldn’t protect themselves they must have bad Karma. Dying would improve their position in the cosmos. He, The Baron von Ungern-Sternberg, was a King and a genius. Even more than that, not just a king and a genius – he was an angel, a holy man, a bringer of enlightenment who had the power to elevate souls. The Baron proclaimed himself god. As leader of the new religion he improved the station of innumerable — followers.

Once in an especially generous state of mind. He asked his men to donate their skeletons for the construction of a multi-jointed Bodhisattva. The soldiers refused. Ungern-Sternberg insisted that they comply. He wept with joy as his men attained Nirvana.

The Baron had many innovative ideas about government. Like his European counterparts later in the 20th Century Ungern-Sternberg concerned himself with the state of bus transportation. Citizens of Urga, the capital of Mongolia, were treated to the “rebirth bus station of the day.” The lucky bus riders, on disembarking were rounded up, suspended from a tree and gently lowered into a fire until their souls were free.

The Baron had progressive and forward thinking policies on crime. Crime was not a moral problem but a disease caused by a virus caught from the Chinese. The good and kind Baron cured thieves with a variety of treatments of his own invention. Treatments ranged from sewing mice into the liver of the ailing criminal to enemas with turpentine. These treatments worked surprisingly well. Few thieves ever stole again.

Like any despot worthy of a place in history Baron von Ungern-Sternberg employed minions. He awarded the rank of Commander of Urga to his loyal follower Colonel Sepailoff. Sepailoff suffered from a condition that caused him to twitch and jerk uncontrollably. He spouted nonsensical or offensive words at random. Sepailoff often sang in his jerky and marginally coherent voice as he killed off the citizens of the kingdom – or elevated their Karma, as the Baron called it.

Another of the Baron’s loyal lackeys, Teapot, came by his name because he was always brewing tea. He had forgotten his real name on the long ride across the Mongolian steppe. Whenever a Mongol applied for a job with the Baron’s administration, The Baron would personally interview the candidate. If the candidate accepted a cup of tea during the meeting, Teapot would creep up behind the job-seeker and strangle him. In The Baron’s court, death did not necessarily disqualify the candidate from getting the job, nor from earning a wage.

Most western governments were reluctant to recognize a governing body run by rotting corpses and mad men. The Baron did, however, gain recognition and financial support from Japan. Japan was perhaps was a little too eager to have a buffer between itself and its powerful Russian and Chinese neighbors.

The Baron’s reign, in spite of his kingdom’s colorful social conventions and political trappings, was short. In 1921 his men turned him over to Russian authorities. Baron von Ungern-Sternberg faced a firing squad shortly after. In a hail of bullets the soul of the enlightened leader was sent packing to a far more elevated state.

Posted by: Kate Jonez