The Trial of a Lycanthrope: A Mini-Essay

     In 1603, Jean Grenier, a fourteen-year-old servant, made a startling confession to the citizens of Landes, France: during his transformations into a wolf, he had stalked, killed, and eaten several local children. The declaration prompted his immediate trial, where he was charged with lycanthropy and sentenced to a life-long incarceration at the Basilica of Saint Michael in Bordeaux.[1] Grenier’s indictment, though, was not an isolated incident. In fact, France alone witnessed several cases of lycanthropy during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries: in 1521, three suspects professed to being part of a wolf pack terrorizing the city of Poligny; in 1573, Gilles Garnier, a citizen of Dole, was accused of possessing a wolf-like appetite for human flesh; and, in 1598, a Parisian man was tried after being found naked and covered in hair at a brutal crime scene.[2] In each instance, lycanthropy was ruled as the cause for the crimes. For contemporary society, where werewolves have become the glitter-coated pets of jejune teen novels, this concept seems rather bizarre; however, at the time of Grenier’s conviction, lycanthropy was a frightening concept which prompted serious discussion by learned individuals throughout Europe.
     In 1580, Jean Bodin, a French political philosopher, wrote his examination of witchcraft and demonology titled De la Démonomanie des Sorciers. Utilizing examples from history and the Bible, Bodin devoted an entire chapter to lycanthropy. During his examination, the author proposes that the material transformation of man into wolf is a product of the Devil, who lulls the lycanthrope into a dreamlike state and imposes a hallucination onto the victim’s body to deceive both him and any observers.[3] Through this demon-delusion, Bodin maintains, the Devil can manipulate the werewolf to do his devious biddings. Although it was controversial during the time of its publication, Bodin’s argument was one of many emerging during the era. From Henri Boguet’s Discours des Sorciers (1590) and Claude Prieur’s Dialogue de la Lycanthropie (1596) to Le Sieur de Beauvoys de Chauvincourt’s Discours de la Lycanthropie (1599) and Jean de Nynauld’s De la Lycanthropie (1615) numerous works materialized during the latter part of the sixteenth century which, akin to Bodin’s text, upheld that lycanthropy was a deception of the Devil.[4] It was this definition, in turn, which was employed by the courts during earlier cases as a means to judge and execute Gilles Garnier, the three individuals from Poligny, and countless others. In retaliation to this malicious perception, physicians such as Reginald Scot and Johann Weyer claimed lycanthropy was not a demon-delusion, but an illness of Melancholia attributed to excess black bile.[5] In 1584, Scot published The Discoverie of Witchcraft, which – along with Weyer’s De Praestigiis Daemonum in 1563 – stressed the need for compassion and healing in cases of lycanthropy and condoned the persecution and death, particularly that of Garnier, which had run rampant as a result of Bodin and his peers.[6] By the start of the seventeenth century, as Grenier’s trial attests, the opinion of Scot and Weyer had made a slight impact, with the Higher Court electing to sequester the criminal to a monastic life rather than burn him at the stake like his predecessors.

Works Referenced

Frost, Brian. The Essential Guide to Werewolf Literature. Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin Press, 2003.

Gee, Joshua. Encyclopedia Horrifica. New York: Scholastic, Inc., 2007.

Midelforty, H.C. Erik. A History of Madness in Sixteenth-Century Germany. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1999.

Otten, Charlotte, ed. A Lycanthropy Reader: Werewolves in Western Culture. Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press, 1986.

Summers, Montague. The Werewolf in Lore and Legend. 1933. New York: Dover Publications, Inc., 2003. 

Wiseman, S.J. “Hairy on the Inside: Metamorphosis and Civility in English Werewolf Texts.” Renaissance Beasts: Of Animals, Humans, and Other Wonderful Creatures. Ed. Erica Fudge. Champaign, IL: University of Illinois Press, 2004. 50-69.     

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[1] Summers, 231-234.

[2] Gee, 30.

[3] Wiseman, 58.

[4] Frost, 30-31.

[5] Midelforty, 169.

[6] Otten, 102.

Bug-Infested Flour Sack

$7 - $10 (based on 2016 prices)

Makes one sack

This prop disgusted several of the haunt’s visitors and unnerved a friend who stopped by earlier in October to witness the prop-building process. Due to time constraints, I was only able to create one, but I would have loved to make quite a few more (some with bugs and others without).

• One 5 lbs. flour sack
• At least four tablespoons of dark roasted coffee grounds
• One pan large enough to soak the flour sack
• One yard of black fabric
• One 2 oz. bag of spider webbing
• One 0.07 oz. tube of super glue
• One bag of plastic cockroaches (roughly two dozen bugs per bag)

1. Boil enough water to completely submerge the flour sack and pour it into the pan. Add the coffee. The longer you allow the coffee to brew, the darker the stain will become. Likewise, greater amounts of coffee will produce a richer stain. Submerge the sack in the coffee mixture and soak it until it reaches the color you desire. I soaked mine for two days and scattered the coffee grounds over the top of the fabric to add spots. Remove the sack from the water and allow it to dry.

2. Cut small squares (roughly 2” x 2”) out of the black fabric. These will serve as backing for the holes to give the illusion that they are deeper than they actually are.

3. Once the flour sack has dried, turn it inside-out and glue the fabric squares to the areas where you will create holes. If you want more creative leeway, skip the second step and sew the black fabric inside the sack to form a lining.

4. Turn the sack right-side out and snip holes in the cloth. The best means to do this is by holding the sack and the black fabric apart (this will prevent you from accidentally cutting the lining) and making a small nick in the sack.

5. Use a bag of old spider webbing to fill the sack. You are basically creating a pillow. Try not to overstuff the prop. You want it to have lumps and slouch when placed upright.

6. Once you have stuffed the flour sack, sew the top closed. If you want the prop to have a rustic appearance, stop at this point (if this is the case, you might consider bypassing steps two, three, and four to simply create worn sacks as decorative filler for your haunt).

7. Since I wanted something more arresting, I used scissors to transform the small cuts made earlier into tattered holes. For believability, vary the size of each hole and fray the ends.

8. Glue cockroaches to the sack. I did both the front and the back (pictured), but you could cover just the side which will be displayed to save time. Try not to over think your application (a random pattern produces the best results). For added detail, arrange the bugs to make it appear as though they are crawling out of the holes. NOTE: The particular cockroaches I used were made with a slick plastic which did not adhere with hot glue. As a result, I used superglue to affix them to the prop.

9. If you plan to display these props outdoors in windy conditions, you might want to give them additional weight by adding small sandbags or rocks in the base during the stuffing process.

"The Fossilot" (A Poem)

The Halloween season supplies ample fodder for playfully macabre poems and Jane Yolen's collection, Best Witches, offers twenty-one spirited verses. Although some are rather serious and contemplative, most, like "The Fossilot," are comical in nature. 

You cannot find a Fossilot
Except in ancient stones,
Where imprints of its teeth and claws
Lie jumbled with its bones.

Some scientists cleaned up the bones,
Arranged, then tried to date them.
But when they had the jaw complete - 
It turned around and ate them.

Works Referenced

Yolen, Jane. "The Fossilot." Best Witches: Poems for Halloween. New York: G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1989. pg. 18.

Aged Bones

$5 - $7 (based on 2016 prices)

Makes a dozen bones

I bought these bones back in 2015 for my creepy doll talismans. I attempting to stain them, but the coloration was too unnatural. So, I used chicken bones instead. A year later, I repurposed them with a few coats of paint and they proved remarkably versatile. In fact, I was able to incorporate them into three props for 2016’s haunt.

• One bag of cheap, plastic bones (roughly one dozen bones per bag)
• One 8 oz. can of interior/exterior, fast-drying latex paint in flat white*
• One 2 oz. bottle of acrylic paint in flat black*
• One 2 oz. bottle of acrylic paint in flat brown*

1. In a well-ventilated area, lay out the bones on a newspaper-lined surface and give them three even coats of white paint. Although you can use more paint, keep in mind that additional layers may cause the coverage to become thick and cakey. To prevent this, apply each coat individually and allow it to fully dry before the next application.

2. Once the paint has dried, give the bones a smudging of brown paint. I discovered that applying a small amount of paint to your thumb and index finger and rubbing it onto the prop works well.

3. Repeat the second step using black paint. For this particular patina, I worked from light to dark to give the bones a brown hue accented with blacks; however, you could work from dark to light to give the props a darker appearance.

*You will not use the entire bottle’s content for this project.