a fearful combat, he will be vanquished by
the gods. The Edda also makes mention of
two other wolves, one of which pursues the
sun, while the other chases the moon; and
one day both those orbs will be caught and
devoured by them. Of the origin of these
wolves, we are told in the Edda, that "a hag
dwells in a wood to the eastward of Midgard,
called Járnvid (the Iron Wood), which is the
abode of a race of witches called the
Járnvidjur. This old hag is the mother of many
gigantic sons, who are all of them shaped
like wolves. There is one of that race who
is said to be the most formidable of all, called
Mánagarm: he will be filled with the
lifeblood of men who draw near their end, and
will swallow up the moon, and stain the
heavens and the earth with blood. Then
shall the sun grow dim, and the winds howl
tumultuously to and fro." These are among
the earliest so-called wehr-wolves.

In France, wehr-wolves are called loup
garoux; in Normandy, when that duchy was
an independent, semi-Scandinavian
nationality, garwolves; and, among the Bretons,
Bisclavaret. This latter name is associated
with an old story of a Breton nobleman who
used to transform himself, and whose
adventures are narrated by that French poetess of
the thirteenth century, Marie, who charmed
the court of our Henry the Third by her lays.
The nobleman's wife, having discovered his
fearful secret, by dint of repeated questioning
(for her curiosity had been excited by his
frequent absence from home), possessed
herself one day of his garments when he was in
the wolf shape. This, as she had previously
ascertained would be the case, prevented his
returning to his state of man. The faithless
wife then married a gallant, and Bisclavaret
lurked miserably in woods and desert places,
longing, but in vain, to shake off the brutish
semblance that imprisoned him. In about a
year, the king, while hunting, pursued the
poor man-wolf all day, and at length ran
him down. Then did the whole court behold
a marvel; for, the beast ran straight up to
the monarch's horse, seized the stirrup with
hia fore-paw, licked the king's feet, and
pathetically implored protection. "By the
mass!" cried the king, "this is a strange
adventure, and a piteous! The poor brute
throws himself on my kingly mercy, with
mute, imploring gestures, that have a touch
of human reason in them. We have chased
him sorely; but I swear he shall not die.
You huntsmen, there! Beat off the dogs!"
Bisclavaret was taken to the court, and
became a great favourite, for his manners
were gentle and dog-like. One day, the
husband of his former wife came to the court;
when Bisclavaret suddenly burst into a
furiously savage mood, leaped upon the knight,
and, but for the interposition of the king,
would have rent him into pieces. Again the
same thing happened; and not long
afterwards, the lady herself was encountered by
Bisclavaret in the forest. He seized upon
her, and tore her nose from her face. The
king, exasperated at this, swore that the
wolf should be put to death; but, an aged
counsellor, perceiving some mystery in the
matter, advised that the lady and the knight
should be imprisoned until the truth should
be extorted from them. This was done; the
tale was unwillingly told; and the clothes of
Bisclavaret were restored. Not until he
was placed in a room by himself with them,
would he disenchant himself. He was at
length shut up in the king's bed-chamber;
and, after a while, when the monarch and the
courtiers again entered, they found a comely
gentleman asleep on the royal bed. The
conclusion of the story is to the effect that the
nobleman was taken into high favour, and
that the wicked wife and her paramour were
banished from the land.

We will add one more story, and that shall
be from Sandys's notes to his translation of
Ovid (sixteen hundred and thirty-two). His
mode of telling it is so earnest and intense,
that we prefer giving it to the reader in the
writer's own language:

"One, accustoming to change himselfe into
a wolfe, and againe into a man, was lately
taken, and brought before the Duke of
Prussia; accused by the pesants for worrying
their cattle. A deformed fellow, and not
much unlike a beast. He had a scarre on
his face, the marke of a wound which was
given him by a dog when he was a wolfe, as
himselfe reported. Upon examination, hee
confessed that twice every yeare he was
converted into that shape; first, about Christmas,
and againe at Midsummer; at which
times he grew salvage, and was carried with
a certaine naturall desire to converse with
wolves in the woods; afflicted with paine and
horror while the haire was breaking out of
his skin, and before he was throughly
changed. For a triall, he was shut up in
prison, and carefully guarded; but continued
unaltered. By which it appeares that this,
as the like, proceedeth from a kinde of
distraction, and strength of the abused
imagination: the Divell doubly deluding both
themselves, and such as behold them, with fantastick
resemblances; although Bodin affirmes, and
strives to maintaine, the contrary."

That many people have been executed,
owing to the popular impression that they
were wehr-wolves, is too true; it is only
another instance of the fatal facility with
which superstition has turned disease itself
into food for her love of cruelty, and a
witness to her lamentable ignorance.