Short Reads

Blood or Alcohol? What is it that turns a man into a werewolf? ~ Werewolves of the Baltic Sea

[Read the first part of this post series here]

The Prisoner of Azkaban is probably the first book that I couldn’t wait to be published. I still remember vividly the moment I saw it at the supermarket, how I jumped towards it dragging my father along. ‘It’s out! Dad! It’s out! We need to buy it!’

Original cover of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban in French

He solemnly agreed, for he’d read the Harry Potter first two novels even before I did.

It happened while we were on a train to the ski station.

‘What’s that book about, dad? You can’t stop reading it,’ I was a tiny bit jealous of the attention my father devoted to the novel instead of me.

‘It’s a children’s book.’

I frowned.

‘A children’s book? But you’re an adult.’

I was very square that way.

‘I know, I know! But I was told about this novel by a friend. It’s great, actually. You should read it once I’m finished with it.’

‘Can I read it now?’

‘Well, no, I haven’t finished it yet.’

‘Meh. Whatever.’

Eventually, the Harry Potter series sucked me in like a maelstrom. I was so eager to read the story that by the time the fifth novel came out I read it in English even though I didn’t understand a thing. Like, really. I just spotted names and figured out one or two words here and there. I read more than two hundred pages like this. Other people asked me if I could read English. They were impressed for I was still very young.

‘No, I can’t.’

‘But you’re reading Harry Potter in English!’


‘Why would you do that if you don’t understand it?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You’re weird.’

I didn’t have a comeback back then. People told me I was weird all the time and I never knew what to answer. Nowadays I just say ‘Yes’ in the most mundane way possible, as if they were talking about the rain or a delayed train. It tends to make them go: ‘Oh, very well then!’ And they leave me be.

Little is to say that the Harry Potter novel series became a major part of my childhood and formative teenage years. As for many other people born in the ’90s, it helped forge my imagination and it magnified the hidden shadows of my ‘collective unconscious’. My father grew up with Bilbo the Hobbit, which he also gave to me to read, and I grew up with Harry Potter.

Biblo, Gandalf and the dwarves plan out their trip to the Lonely Mountain. Illustration by Alan Lee.

The same way my father learned about enchanted rings from Gandalf the Grey, I was introduced to magic wands by Olivander. My father roamed the Lothlórien, following Bilbo’s path. I explored the Forbidden Forest whenever Harry Potter left his dorm at night. We both were faced with big scary spiders. Eventually, as my father was amazed by Beorn’s abilities as a ‘skin changer’, able to assume the form a great black bear, I was frightened by the werewolf Harry Potter met under a full moon in the Shrieking Shack!

By the time J. K. Rowling wrote the Prisoner of Azkaban, it was common knowledge thanks to Hollywood that some men could turn into wolves under the light of a full moon. She states the following:

To become a werewolf, it is necessary to be bitten by a werewolf in their wolfish form at the time of the full moon. When the werewolf’s saliva mingles with the victim’s blood, contamination will occur.’ This explains why Remus Lupin is afraid of a ‘silvery orb’ when faced with a Boggart.

However, our beloved Olaus Magnus argues differently. He teaches that you actually need only three things to become a werewolf: a wizard, a pint of ale and some dark cellar.

If someone skilled in sorcery, repeating certain words, offers a beaker of ale to drink to the one who desires to be enrolled in that band of accursed beings, the latter will achieve the means of changing shape. Later, whenever he finds it appropriate, he can transfer completely from a man’s form to that of a wolf by removing himself to some cellar or deep forest.

(edited extract from Olaus Magnus, A Description of the Northern Peoples (1555), book 18, chapter 46, translated by P. G. Foote)

We sure would like to know what those ‘certain words’ are but Olaus doesn’t provide them, unfortunately. However, he hands out more information on werewolves and their dark customs: how they gather, how they plan their attacks. I’ll report it in my next post. What fascinates me at the moment is how his narrative kind of matches Skyrim’s storyline.

The Werewolf in Skyrim is a mighty and dangerous beast.

Once the Dragonborn joins the Companions in Whiterun, he gets an invitation to enter the Circle if he has proved himself worthy. The Dragonborn then meet the chosen few of the Companions who’ve been ‘blessed’ with the gift of lycanthropy in a secret cave: the Underforge. The Dragonborn has to drink blood (instead of beer) and a few solemn words are exchanged before he turns into a werewolf and runs into a fit. Bloodthirsty, rendered wild by his/her first transformation, the Dragonborn goes on a killing spree at night in Whiterun and wakes up several hours later, lost in a forest next to Aela.

Since the blood is drunk from what look likes baptismal font, the ceremony to turn into a werewolf in Skyrim looks more like a satanic ritual than a heathen act of witchcraft. This gives food for thought but I love how Olaus Magnus strongly links the consumption of alcohol with werewolves. Or should I?

It has been suggested that the people who were thought to be werewolves were actually victims of depression. And we know well how drinking excess of alcohol can be a clear symptom of depression. I made that experience myself and maybe one day I’ll tell that tale. Meanwhile, Olaus’ text remains highly suggestive. ‘Werewolves, Alcohol and Depression’ could actually be the title of a legitimate PhD research. However, we won’t go that far. We’ll end this post where it started, quoting J. K. Rowling. She totally by-passes the alcohol-werewolf coupling and writes that

Lupin’s condition of lycanthropy (being a werewolf) was a metaphor for those illnesses that carry a stigma, like HIV and AIDS. All kinds of superstitions seem to surround blood-borne conditions, probably due to taboos surrounding blood itself. […] The character of Lupin gave me a chance to examine those attitudes.

More on my next post!

Short Reads

Do werewolves indulge into binge-drinking ? ~ Werewolves of the Baltic Sea

Les loups-garous abusent-ils de la bouteille ?
[Version française en-dessous / Read the story in French below]

You know the song, you know how it goes.

It’s close to midnight
Something evil’s lurking from the dark
Under the moonlight                            
You see a sight that almost stops your heart!

The one and only Michael Jackson.

Now, do the dance!

Don’t fret. I did it too. There should be some video out there to prove it.

Nowadays people dress-up as werewolves for fun on Halloween. However it was at Christmas that werewolves came out and attacked the Forest People of Scandinavia back in the 16th century. I’m not making it up. Olaus Magnus bares witness for it.

“On the feast of Christ’s nativity, towards nightfall in a place already agreed amongst them, there collects a vast horde of men from different areas who have changed into wolves, and later that same night they turn their incredible barbarity upon human beings and harmless animals. […] As it is perfectly well known, they attack the homes of the forest-dwellers with unbelievable savagery, even attempting to break down their doors with the intention of devouring the inmates and all other living things within the building.”
(extract from Olaus Magnus, A Description of the Northern Peoples (1555), book 18, chapter 45, translated by P. G. Foote)

Olaus’ French translator replaced the “as it is perfectly well known” segment with a clause that goes more like “as we experienced it ourselves”. Did it mean that Olaus saw werewolves with his own eyes? It would be amazing. I had to double-check it. Therefore I went as far as to read the Latin original text, which is quite easy to find. Here is what is actually written: “Nam uti compertum habetur.” This phrasing is unfortunately quite impersonal and doesn’t implicate Olaus’ direct experience of the werewolves. Damn it.

Paris, BnF, MS fr. 616, f. 96v ~ Contrarily to the werewolf, the common wolf can be easily hunted down.

Yet, Olaus provides us a very good tip as how to distinguish the werewolf from the common wolf. It’s quite simple really. The werewolf is a drunk!

“They enter an alecellar, and there drain several casks of beer or mead, after which they pile up the empty barrels in the middle of the cellar, one on top of the other, a habit in which they behave very differently from ordinary wolves.”

No shit Sherlock! I have a zoological book on wolves, no where can we find that they enjoy any type of alcohol. Believe me I looked.

Now. Main question. Do men and women turn into werewolves only when the Moon is full? I’ll answer to that on my next post on werewolves, very soon. We only started this journey into the darkness! My next posts should also be a bit longer, but only if you really-really like it. Share this story, put down a comment and ask for more.

I’ll admit I’m a drama queen. Now. Be a good reader. Give me some love or I’ll quit!

As if I could ever quit writing…

[The second part of this post series is now published!]

Paris, BnF, MS fr. 616, f. 31v ~ Wolves in their natural habitat.

Toi même tu connais les paroles, ne t’en caches pas.

It’s close to midnight
Something evil’s lurking from the dark
Under the moonlight                            
You see a sight that almost stops your heart!

Allez, danse!

T’inquiète. Je l’ai fait aussi. Il y a certainement une vidéo quelque part pour le prouver.

De nos jours les gens se déguisent en loups-garous pour s’amuser le soir d’Halloween. Toutefois, c’était à Noël que les loups-garous attaquaient le peuple des Forêts de Scandinavie au 16e siècle. Je n’invente rien. Olaus Magnus en est témoin !

« À l’époque de Noel, en effet, une grande troupe de loups qui jadis étaient des hommes se rassemble la nuit en un lieu dont ils ont convenu ; ensuite, pendant une seule et même nuit, ils agressent avec une sauvagerie inouïe les hommes et les autres créatures vivantes qui n’ont pas cette nature furieuse. […] Comme nous en avons fait l’expérience à nos dépens, ils s’attaquent en effet avec une haine incroyable aux maisons des habitants des forêts et tentent même d’en forcer les portes pour y dévorer hommes et animaux qui s’y trouvent. »

La traduction française d’Olaus écrit « comme nous en avons fait l’expérience », toutefois la traduction anglaise donne une tournure plutôt du genre « comme il est parfaitement établi ». Vous comprenez, dès lors, que je devais vérifier par moi-même si Olaus Magnus avait été le témoin direct d’une attaque de loups-garous. La chose eût été trop belle ! Hélas, en latin dans le texte, il écrit : « Nam uti compertum habetur. » Ce qui rejoint plutôt la traduction anglaise impersonnelle. Flûte.

Cependant, Olaus nous donne un précieux conseil pour distinguer les loups-garous des loups ordinaires. La chose est assez simple. Les loups-garous sont des ivrognes !

« Ils pénètrent dans les celliers pour y vider force tonneaux de bière ou d’hydromel, puis il entassent les fûts vides les uns sur les autres au milieu du cellier : ainsi les distingue-t-on des vrais loups. »

Je dirais même plus, mon cher Dupont ! Ayant fouillé l’un de mes ouvrages zoologiques consacré aux loups, j’affirme sur l’honneur n’y avoir absolument rien trouvé sur la consommation d’alcool par ces nobles bêtes.

Une question demeure. Elle est grosse comme une maison. La voici, la voilà : « Ne peut-on se transformer en loup-garou qu’à condition qu’il y ait une pleine Lune dans le ciel ? » Afin de maintenir le suspens, j’y répondrai dans mon prochain billet sur le sujet. Celui-là devrait être un peu plus long, également, mais uniquement si celui-ci vous a vraiment, vraiment plu. Partagez cette histoire, laissez un petit commentaire et demandez-m’en plus !

Je suis une diva, je l’admets. Allez, soyez un bon lecteur. Donnez-moi un peu d’amour où j’abandonne tout.

Genre. Comme si je pouvais m’arrêter d’écrire…