The Duchess of Malfi and Lycanthropy: Early Modern Conceptions of Werewolves as Manifestations of Madness

Maegan Stebbins

May 6, 2016

The Duchess of Malfi and Lycanthropy: Early Modern Conceptions of Werewolves as Manifestations of Madness

For tens of thousands of years, even since before the rise of recorded history, humanity has believed in werewolves: beings that transform between human and wolf forms. Lycanthropy, as a concept, is deeply ingrained into the human mind: the duality of man and beast and of civilization and savagery. In fact, the fairly modern term, clinical lycanthropy, refers to a specific mental disease, in which one imagines that he or she is transforming into a wolf. It is this belief in werewolves as a mental disease that makes an appearance in John Webster’s play The Duchess of Malfi, when Ferdinand displays what his doctor calls “lycanthropia” (5.2.6). Ferdinand is not the only character who can be viewed differently based upon the theory of lycanthropy in Renaissance medicine and psychology. Not only does Ferdinand grow mad and lose control over his own actions, but also both of his siblings – the Duchess and the Cardinal – show symptoms of melancholy, as well as erratic and brash behavior with possible borderline insanity. Wolfish imagery is frequently used to describe them, just as the siblings use such imagery to describe aspects of each other. Perceptions of lycanthropy during John Webster’s time period provide for a reading of his play The Duchess of Malfi that questions the motivations and sanity of both Ferdinand and his entire family, leaving the reader wondering whether they are truly villainous, or if they are all simply mad and worthy of pity.

Other scholars have similarly examined lycanthropy in The Duchess of Malfi, particularly Brett D. Hirsch, in his article “An Italian Werewolf in London: Lycanthropy and The Duchess of Malfi.” Although Hirsch accurately discusses werewolves of legend, including how perceptions of them changed over time and how lycanthropy was perceived during Webster’s time period, he keeps his examination of the play’s characters relatively brief, focusing almost exclusively on Ferdinand as the sole victim of lycanthropy. While expanding his essay, Hirsch draws very unusual ideas from Ferdinand’s affliction, making assertions such as, “It seems that Ferdinand’s lycanthropy … [constitutes] not only the precarious boundary between man and beast, but man and woman.”1 Traditional werewolves of legend, however, were rarely – if ever – tied with issues concerning gender or sexuality, and indeed, werewolves came in both male and female varieties, with one just as ferocious as the other.2 Hirsch makes many more arguments in his article, including an evaluation that Webster’s view of lycanthropy was purely medical, as opposed to being based on any demonic possession. He also points out Ferdinand’s possible interest in incest. However, Hirsch does not investigate how other characters in the play may share Ferdinand’s affliction of lycanthropy.

In order to properly discuss the werewolf beliefs found in The Duchess of Malfi, it is necessary to understand how werewolf legends evolved and how they were regarded during the Early Modern period. However, as stated by Montague Summers, an English author, clergyman, and dedicated scholar of many supernatural beings, in his 1933 book Werewolf: “Werewolfery itself is a vast subject.”3 Indeed, werewolf legends have been in circulation since the dawn of time.

During ancient times, Greece had more than its fair share of werewolf legends. Werewolves appeared in the accounts of King Lycaon and other tales from Arcadia as told by Ovid, as well as in the writings of Pliny, Petronius, and other scholars, and other folklore in general. 4 Many werewolf legends from Greece involved an individual transforming into a werewolf through unusual means, such as crossing a river at a certain time; transforming at will; removing their clothes under the light of a full moon;5 taking off their skin; and other such methods.6

The belief in werewolves was certainly not exclusive to Greece, and, in fact, it existed all across Europe and many other regions in the world throughout history, particularly Scandinavia, which is also rather famous for its werewolf legends. Most Norse werewolf legends and sagas involved cursed wolf-skins – or blessed skins, depending on your outlook – that could transform the wearer into a wolf. Another famous Scandinavian instance of werewolves or werewolf-like beings involves the berserkers, also called the ulfhethnir, warriors who wore wolf skins into battle and infused themselves with the spirits of wolves to gain an inhuman battle frenzy. Accounts still exist of berserkers surviving mortal wounds, though some died once their rage was over, while others felt great exhaustion after the rage passed.7

Werewolves are certainly not a solely ancient belief, of course, with tales and very serious accounts of werewolves continuing through the ancient period into the Middle Ages, which is the time period most people associate with werewolves today. During the Middle Ages, one could become a werewolf through all sorts of interesting means, including infection through a bite,8 wearing a cursed wolf-skin,9 being born on Christmas Day, 10 being cursed by a witch,11 sleeping under a full moon on a certain day of the week, 12 being born on a new moon,13 and far more. It was also during the Middle Ages that werewolves were depicted as two particular types: benevolent werewolves and malevolent werewolves. Although stories, beliefs, and even trial records of benevolent werewolves were fairly common during the Middle Ages, they have become largely overlooked and overshadowed by the more popular view that werewolves are malevolent.

While many werewolves of pagan cultures were ordinary men or women who actually performed no evil deeds, often being simple travelers or even friends with the writer of the account and coming to no particularly bad end once the tale was over, after the rise of Christianity, werewolves steadily became more closely associated with evil witchcraft and Satan. Despite a few accounts stating otherwise, the Catholic Church condemned lycanthropy as a form of witchcraft. On occasion, werewolves were created unwillingly by some other means of acquiring the curse, but a popular belief was the idea that an individual made a pact with the Devil to be given the power of lycanthropy.14

It was this belief in malevolent werewolves that eventually connected them to concepts of madness, a belief that began to gain more traction during the 1600’s. Some insane criminals would confess to being werewolves, while others would be accused of having lycanthropy and either be imprisoned or executed for it.15 During the Early Modern period, people began to question the science behind folktale beliefs, such as men turning into wolves or wolf-men. Werewolves became an explanation for inhuman crimes, rather than a belief in magic and transformation, and lycanthropy became only a mental disease.

Thus, in The Duchess of Malfi, lycanthropy was a contemporary issue and an explanation for insanity and violence during Webster’s time period. There were several prominent texts on the subject, including a piece entitled “Men-Woolfes,” which was written in 1597 by King James I of England. Originally from his book Daemonologie, King James I wrote this section addressing lycanthropy to respond to it as an issue. When asked about his opinion on “war-woolfes,” King James I replied that he found it to be “but of a naturall super-abundance of Melancholie.”16 Although only a brief section, the fact that lycanthropy was of such importance that King James I felt the need to address it certainly signifies that it was a legitimate concern during the late 1500’s into the 1600’s.

Various interpretations of the play can be constructed based around Ferdinand’s lycanthropy. For instance, if he is truly insane, the question arises as to whether he had control over his own actions. Perhaps the most famous aspect of werewolves is their transformation, their duality of man and wolf and – arguably – good and evil, or at least sanity and insanity, or humanity and inhumanity. Is Ferdinand responsible for his actions, or does his disease push him over the edge? In fact, the same could be asked of Ferdinand’s siblings, the Duchess and the Cardinal, particularly as the three are so closely tied by imagery and themes of melancholy, as well as by blood.

Alternatively, Ferdinand’s lycanthropy could be used to enhance his villainy, as many werewolf tales and trial records certainly indicate that werewolves were monsters capable of committing unforgivable and inhuman crimes. Some werewolves of legend embraced their monstrous side, much as seen in some horror films today. They used it to commit greater evils and would sometimes even brag about their curse, just as Ferdinand does when he supposedly meets someone on the lane behind a church while carrying “the leg of a man / Upon his shoulder; and he howled fearfully; / Said he was a wolf, only the difference / Was, a wolf’s skin was hairy on the outside, / His on the inside” (5.2.14-18).

In 1590, a man named Peter Stubbe was accused of witchcraft and lycanthropy, and his trial case formed what has potentially become one of the most famous werewolf trials in history. After being tortured on a rack, before he could be tortured further, he confessed to a myriad of crimes, including making a pact with the Devil, who gave him a girdle that allowed him to take the shape of a wolf. In this wolf form, he committed assorted crimes, including murder and cannibalism. Similar to Ferdinand’s borderline boasting, after Stubbe was caught, he spoke proudly of his lycanthropy giving him power over others, and also like Ferdinand, he had incestuous desires, which were determined to be caused by his insanity. Stubbe was ultimately executed for his atrocities.17

However, the particular werewolf case that may have most inspired Webster occurred in 1541, as reported by Job Fincel. A peasant went mad believing himself to be a wolf, and he attacked a group of fellow peasants in a field, lashing out at them with his teeth, rending their flesh, and killing several. He was – with great difficulty, according to accounts – finally captured, but he refused to give up his delusion about being a wolf. The peasant told his captors that “whereas wolves are hairy outside, my fur grows within my body.”18 Bystanders made deep wounds in his arms and legs to investigate the truth behind this – just as Ferdinand “bade … [those who found him] take their swords, / Rip up his flesh, and try” (5.2.18-19) – and the peasant was later taken to physicians, but he died in their care. This account provides one of the most overt references to werewolves having fur that grows under their skin, which is a relatively obscure belief in werewolf lore. It is, however, noteworthy to mention that the man who wrote the account of the mad peasant clearly felt sympathy for him in his insanity. After the peasant mentioned the fur under his skin, Fincel described the bystanders who attacked him as “showing themselves to be more cruel wolves than he” when they mortally wounded him in order to find the truth. 19

As in The Duchess of Malfi, melancholy and lycanthropy are often associated with each other. Ferdinand’s doctor refers to lycanthropy as an overflow of melancholy, which results in the hallucination that the victim has transformed into a wolf: “In those that are possessed with’t there o’erflows / Such melancholy humor they imagine / Themselves to be transformèd into wolves” (5.2.8-10). Lycanthropy was frequently related to melancholy in medical and other accounts during Webster’s time, as demonstrated by King James I and several others, such as I. Goulart, a historian who wrote about medicine and demonology in 1607. Goulart calls werewolves “melancholike,” and he says that they “imagine themselves to be transformed into Wolves,” accusing them of going out “in Februarie, conterfet Wolves in a manner of all things.”20

However, when Robert Burton mentions lycanthropy in his text Anatomy of Melancholy, written in 1621, he questions whether lycanthropy is melancholy. In the section entitled “Diseases of the Mind,” he discusses mental illnesses, including lycanthropy, which he calls “Wolf-madness.”21 As do other medical texts of the 1600’s, Burton specifically attributes running and “howling about graves and fields in the night” as a quality of the madmen who suffer from lycanthropy and believe that they are wolves.22 Burton cites other scholars and authors who discuss the issue, though he disputes lycanthropy as being a “Melancholy,” and instead refers to it as a “Madness, as most do.”23 Whether he believes it to be melancholy or some other form of madness, Burton’s descriptions correspond with his contemporaries’ evaluations stating that werewolves are madmen who stalk graveyards. Webster also uses this description in his play: “[Lycanthropes] Steal forth to churchyards in the dead of night / And dig dead bodies up” (5.2.11-12).

Ferdinand’s madness not only takes the form of obvious lycanthropic acts, but many other characters also discuss his strange and violent behavior. Even in the very first act and scene of the play, Antonio says that Ferdinand has “A most perverse and turbulent nature. / What appears in him mirth is merely outside; / If he laugh heartily, it is to laugh / All honesty out of fashion” (1.1.169-172). Not only do these lines allude to Ferdinand’s madness, but also to the fact that Ferdinand hides something within himself, as his mirth “is merely outside.” Following what he feels is a betrayal by his sister, Ferdinand flies into a rage, saying, “I am grown mad” (2.5.2). His fury alarms his brother, the Cardinal, who says, “this rage, which carries you, / As men conveyed by witches through the air, / on violent whirlwinds!” (2.5.50-52), and even asks him outright, “Are you stark mad?” (2.5.67). The Cardinal uses his brother’s madness as an excuse to avoid detection while Bosola moves the body of the murdered Julia, telling Malateste and Pescara, “And though you hear him [Ferdinand] in his violent fit, / Do not rise, I entreat you” (5.4.6-7).

Even when not in an apparent rage, Ferdinand’s appearance and demeanor reflect his lycanthropy. Antonio observes that “The Lord Ferdinand, that’s newly come to court, / Doth bear himself right dangerously” (3.1.19-20). Ferdinand’s appearance even bears some resemblance to descriptions of werewolves, particularly to a description found in the trial record of the previously mentioned Peter Stubbe. Pescara says of Ferdinand, “Mark Prince Ferdinand: / A very salamander lives in’s eye, / To mock the eager violence of fire” (3.3.48-50), and the trial transcript for Stubbe describes him as having “eyes great and large, which in the night sparkled like brands of fire.”24 Werewolves in general – especially those of legend, rather than madmen – are frequently described with such eyes: “The animal’s hot fangs dripped with blood, and the narrow eyes were lit with the fires of hell.”25

While Ferdinand’s violent temperament is unmistakably apparent, another interesting aspect of his lycanthropy is found in his preoccupation with wolves. Ferdinand frequently alludes to wolves, often in relation to his sister’s children, whom he refers to as “young wolves” (4.2.257). When confronting the Duchess, who argues with him about her marriage, he tells her that “The howling of a wolf / Is music to thee, screech owl” (3.2.91-92), putting the wolf’s howls in a rare, positive light compared with the voice of his now disfavored twin sister. He says to Bosola that “The wolf shall find [the Duchess’s] grave and scrape it up, / Not to devour the corpse, but to discover / The horrid murder” (4.2.310-312), again making reference to some accounts, in which werewolves were blamed for digging up graves, though Ferdinand claims that it would occur in this instance for a justified purpose.

Ferdinand is not the only character to be called melancholic, whether the term refers to lycanthropy or not. Other members of his family are accused of it as well, including the Duchess herself, as Cariola refers to not wanting to increase the Duchess’s melancholy: “Oh, ‘twill increase your melancholy” (4.2.9). However, none of them exhibit the same temperamental rages as Ferdinand. The revelation that Ferdinand and the Duchess are twins could be indicative of some potential lycanthropic connections between him and his sister, forming even more interpretations of the Duchess: namely that, potentially, she is a madwoman whose actions are beyond her own control. The Cardinal bears some traces of this affliction as well, especially since both the Duchess and the Cardinal are also not exempt from the occasional allusion to wolves or wolfish attributes.

Some of Ferdinand’s remarks about the Duchess reveal the possibility of lycanthropy, or some other condition, as an inherited family trait among the siblings. Ferdinand refers to purging the Duchess’s “infected blood” (2.5.26), another hint that she may be afflicted somehow, just as he is, given that she is his sister and twin. He later mentions “witchcraft … in her rank blood” (3.1.78) as well, and although it may only seem to be an insult, this statement could nonetheless hint that Ferdinand is aware of some ailment of his sister, which is perhaps lycanthropy, a possible common family trait. The mention of “witchcraft” in connection with lycanthropy began during the Middle Ages with the growth of Christianity, as mentioned earlier, although Webster seems to relate lycanthropy to insanity rather than witchcraft.

No one in the play overtly refers to the Duchess as being lycanthropic, as they do her twin brother Ferdinand, but she displays unusual behavior as well as melancholic aspects that could hint at her own lycanthropic nature. In the opening act and scene of the play, Antonio says of the Duchess, “But for their sister, the right noble Duchess: / You never fixed your eye on three fair medals, / Cast in one figure, of so different temper” (1.1.187-189), and he praises her “noble virtue” (1.1.201). She also shows other temperaments. The Duchess displays brash and bold behavior when asking Antonio to marry her, saying, “So I, through frights and threat’nings, will assay / This dangerous venture” (1.1.348-349). Despite not flying into extreme rages, as does Ferdinand, she nonetheless displays some violent tendencies, such as when she realizes Bosola’s treachery and says, “Were I a man, / I’d beat that counterfeit face into thy other” (3.5.118-119). When the Duchess is in prison, Ferdinand refers to her melancholy, saying, “Her melancholy seems to be fortified / With a strange disdain” (4.1.11-12), similar to Cariola’s reference to her “melancholy” (2.4.29).

The Duchess’s behavior is not the only hint of her possible lycanthropic nature, however. Much like Ferdinand, she makes numerous wolf references, such as when she tells Ferdinand, “You violate a sacrament o’th’church / Shall make you howl in hell for’t” (4.1.39-40), perhaps in reference to his affliction. The Duchess seems aware of Ferdinand’s troubles, and perhaps even knows of similar trouble regarding her other brother, the Cardinal. She says of her brothers, “All discord, without this circumference [her marriage], / Is only to be pitied and not feared” (1.1.470-471). However, Cariola later says she pities the Duchess herself for her strange behavior: “Whether the spirit of greatness or of woman / Reign most in her, I know not, but it shows / A fearful madness. I owe her much of pity” (1.1.505-507).

Furthermore, the Duchess displays an interesting response to the madmen sent by her brother for treatment of her “melancholy” (4.2.40). The antics of the madmen are supposed to make her laugh and thus disperse her melancholy, though Ferdinand really wants them to drive the Duchess mad as they “act their gambols on the full o’ th’moon” (4.1.132). The madmen “howl some heavy note, / Some deadly dogged howl, / Sounding as from the threat’ning throat / Of beasts and fatal fowl” (4.2.61-64), almost as if showing characteristics of insane werewolves, themselves. The Duchess is not disturbed by their sounds, however, and instead feels comforted by their howling, saying, “Nothing but noise and folly / Can keep me in my right wits, whereas reason / And silence make me stark mad” (4.2.5-7). The Duchess’s unusual response to sounds of insanity – particularly sounds related to wolves – could hint further at her own lycanthropic nature.

Brother to the twins, Ferdinand and the Duchess, the Cardinal also shows signs of affliction, be it lycanthropy or melancholy of some other nature. Referring again to Antonio’s initial descriptions of each character, he says that the Cardinal is “a melancholy churchman” (1.1.158-159). Delio asks Antonio if Ferdinand and the Cardinal are twins – as are Ferdinand and the Duchess, although this does not seem to be known by Delio – to which Antonio replies that they are, “In quality” (1.1.172). Much as Ferdinand and the Duchess, as twins, display the possibility of both being afflicted by lycanthropy, the Cardinal could easily be victim to the same disease because of his relation to them. Some of his actions in the play are called cruel, such as when a pilgrim says the Cardinal is unfair in his banishment of the Duchess: “[T]he Cardinal / Bears himself much too cruel” (3.4.27-28). Like his siblings, the Cardinal is also not spared from wolfish descriptions, such as when Bosola tells him that “They are out of thy howling” (5.5.15) when his guards do not respond to his cries for help.

Although unrelated to the family of lycanthropes or melancholiacs, many characters in the play are referred to as displaying attributes of melancholy, including Bosola. Ferdinand calls Bosola melancholic, saying, “Keep your old garb of melancholy” (1.1.280), and Antonio later speaks similarly of Bosola, telling him “you continue this out-of- / fashion melancholy” (2.1.86-87). Antonio also calls him a “night walker” (2.3.25), and although not an overt reference to lycanthropy, Bosola’s changing moods and behavior, along with his melancholy disposition, could point toward the possibility of lycanthropy. Also, much as werewolves exhibit a dual nature, Bosola transforms from a villain into an avenger.

Interestingly, The Duchess of Malfi is not the only Renaissance play to refer to lycanthropy. Other Elizabethan and Jacobean dramatists have at least made reference to it in their plays, such as when John Ford mentions werewolves in his 1629 play The Lovers Melancholy. A character, Rhetias, enters to recite several lines regarding his insanity, blaming it on lycanthropy and referring to his transformation into a wolf. Stage directions indicate that Rhetias is to enter with “his face whited, blacke shag haire, long nailes, a piece of raw meate.26 Although Ford also references other werewolf lore, such as “the Moone’s eclipsed,” he also makes reference to many of the same elements as does Webster in Duchess. 27 For instance, Rhetias, the lycanthropic madman, says he will “to the Church-yard and sup : Since I turn’d Wolfe, I bark and howle, and digge vp graues, … tis midnight, deepe darke midnight,”28 referring to how he loses his sanity at midnight, much as Ferdinand is found in his fit of lycanthropic madness at “‘bout midnight” (5.2.13). Rhetias is also found in a churchyard, just as Ferdinand is “in a lane / Behind Saint Mark’s Church” (5.2.13-14). A physician in the play, Corax, says of Rhetias’s condition, “This kind is called, Lycanthropia, Sir, When men conceiue themselues Wolues.”29 John Ford also makes mention of lycanthropy in his The Cronicle Historie of Perkin Warbeck, written in 1634, in which King Henry’s chaplain, Urswicke, makes reference to witches turning into wolves.30

Although John Webster was an Englishman, it would seem that he was not unaware of the popularity of lycanthropy in Italy, even during 1600’s, which may be yet another reason why he chose to include lycanthropy in The Duchess of Malfi as an explanation for Ferdinand’s – and, potentially, his two sibling’s – unusual behavior. In Italy, werewolves were referred to as lupo mannaro, and they were actively feared as monsters.31 They were said to have an unquenchable thirst for blood, and werewolf scholar Montague Summers attests to having personally “met peasants who firmly believed in and dreaded the lupo mannaro,” though he wrote his book Werewolf during the 1900’s.32 Thus, in spite of the rise of scientific explanation for lycanthropy and wolfish actions such as those performed by Ferdinand, Webster set his play in a location with many thriving werewolf legends – in which the werewolves frequently still transformed, much as the Italians of the Alpine provinces believed in demons that could “transform [themselves] into a wolf.”33

Ultimately, the fact that Webster so specifically included lycanthropy as the cause of Ferdinand’s madness unlocks alternative and sympathetic readings of Ferdinand and his family, namely the Duchess and the Cardinal, all of whom exhibit unusual and melancholic behavior that is quite possibly beyond their own control. After all, during this time period, lycanthropy was neither a joke nor a fairytale: respected scholars, doctors, and even a King of England cited lycanthropy as a deeply troubling issue, of which society must remain vigilant, and for which people could be imprisoned or executed. Although there exists no excuse to condone Ferdinand’s actions, the fact that he was clearly a victim of clinical lycanthropy leaves one to wonder whether Webster meant the audience to think of him and his actions as entirely human – particularly since Ferdinand himself makes it clear that he does not see himself that way. As for the Duchess and the Cardinal, if the same question is asked of them, perhaps more sympathy could be garnered for their strange behavior. When Ferdinand asks the Cardinal, “Have not you / My palsy?” (2.5.55-56), the Cardinal alludes to Ferdinand’s uniquely violent insanity even among their melancholic family, saying, “There is not in nature / A thing that makes man so deformed, so beastly, / As doth intemperate anger” (2.5.57-59). Although theoretically afflicted by the same type of madness as Ferdinand, the Cardinal and the Duchess do not give in to their condition so readily or so proudly as does their wolfish brother.

Works Cited

Baring-Gould, Sabine. The Book of Were-Wolves. 1865. Radford, VA: Wilder Publications,

2007. Print.

Burton, Robert. “Diseases of the Mind.” 1621. A Lycanthropy Reader: Werewolves in Western

Culture. Ed. Charlotte F. Otten. Syracuse, NY: Syracuse UP, 1986. 45-47. Print.

Goulart, I. “Admirable Histories.” 1607. A Lycanthropy Reader: Werewolves in Western

Culture. Ed. Charlotte F. Otten. Syracuse, NY: Syracuse UP, 1986. 41-45. Print.

Hirsch, Brett D. “An Italian Werewolf in London: Lycanthropy and The Duchess of Malfi.”

Early Modern Literary Studies 11.2 (September, 2005) 2.1-43


James I. “Men-Woolfes.” 1597. A Lycanthropy Reader: Werewolves in Western

Culture. Ed. Charlotte F. Otten. Syracuse, NY: Syracuse UP, 1986. 127-129. Print.

Otten, Charlotte F. A Lycanthropy Reader: Werewolves in Western Culture. Syracuse, NY:

Syracuse UP, 1986. Print.

Summers, Montague. Werewolf. 1933. Mansfield Centre, CT: Martino, 2012. Print.

Stubbe Peeter.” 1590. A Lycanthropy Reader: Werewolves in Western Culture. Ed. Charlotte F.

Otten. Syracuse, NY: Syracuse UP, 1986. 69-76. Print.

Webster, John. The Duchess of Malfi. 1623. English Renaissance Drama: A Norton Anthology.

Ed. David Bevington. New York, NY: W. W. Norton, 2002. 1755-1830. Print.

1 Hirsch 32

2 See Summers 235. A historical account mentions that, in the year 1604, a peasant was attacked by “a fierce wolf,” but he defended himself and managed to cut off one of the wolf’s forelegs. The wolf retreated, but “on being followed[,] a woman was discovered bleeding profusely with her arm severed.” She was burned at the stake for her crimes. The account makes no special mention of differences between male and female werewolves, and indeed, other accounts of similar nature also exist.

3 Summers ix

4 Lycaon is commonly accepted as the “first werewolf,” so to speak, although evidence exists of possible belief in werewolves before the writings of Ovid. Other Greek authors who mention werewolves include Pausanias, Hyginus, Lycophron, and unknown authors whom Pliny quotes. Many Roman authors wrote on werewolves as well, such as Nicolaus Damascenus, M. Terentius Varro Reatinus, Solinus, and numerous others.

5 This transformation frequently involved crossing water, as well, after the clothes were removed. In some tales, a werewolf’s clothes turn to stone until the werewolf returns to them, and the werewolf can only transform back into human form after donning his or her clothing once more.

6 See Baring-Gould 9-11; and Summers 134-145

7 See Baring-Gould 19-23

8 See Summers 13

9 See Baring-Gould 19-23

10 See Summers 162

11 See Summers 118

12 See Summers 163. Specifically, transformation occurred when one slept “on a certain Wednesday or Friday in summer … at night in the open with the moon shining full on his face.”

13 See Summers 163

14 See Summers 100

15 See Otten 62-77; and Baring-Gould 75-84

16 James I 128

17 See “Stubbe Peeter” 69-76

18 Summers 160-161

19 Summers 161

20 Goulart 41

21 Burton 46

22 See Burton 46

23 Burton 46

24 “Stubbe Peeter” 69

25 Summers 170

26 Summers 161

27 Summers 161

28 Summers 161

29 Summers 162

30 See Summers 162

31 Summers 162. Lupo mannaro literally means “werewolf,” and it seems to be the only phrase in which these words are conjugated in such a way.

32 Summers 162

33 Summers 162