“Even a man who is pure in heart
And
says his prayers by night,
May
become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms
And the
moon shines bright.”
--from
The Wolf Man (1941)
Many
of us formed our earliest impressions of the torment of lycanthropy from the
classic 1941 movie, The Wolf Man. A good
man, while rescuing his girlfriend from an attacking wolf, is bitten by the
creature, and becomes a werewolf himself.
Unable to control the ravages of his disease, he begins killing people
in the village by the light of the moon.
In the climactic scene, he is beaten to death with a silver headed
walking stick—Freudian alert!—by his father.
Talbot,
the tragic victim of the contagion of lycanthropy, radiates deep shame and
guilt when he comes to his senses the morning following his latest attack. In his yak-haired transformations into wolf
and then back into confused, anguished human, there is a clear demarcation
between civilized man and beast. The
audience is expected to sympathize with Talbot the man, and cheer him on as he struggles,
heroically, though in vain, to free himself of the malady.
But
Talbot is an anomaly, an antisepticised medicalization
of lycanthropy. More often than not, the
condition is willfully chosen, and the subject is complicit in the
transformation of the self into a rapacious animal. ‘Carolus le Loup’, the werewolf discussed in
the previous post, has to wear a mask to conceal his predatory intent. He is already in the process of shifting his
shape to the lupine ideal, and does not struggle at all against the change—in fact
he embraces it with glee.
Somewhere
in between Lawrence Talbot and Carolus le Loup is ‘Mr. Craw’, wolfish man in
Manly Wade Wellman’s The Werewolf Snarls. The story was later renamed Among Those Present in 1973, by the
author. It seems a better title. Wellman
originally published this story in the March 1937 issue of Weird Tales, along side of The
Seeds from Outside, by Edmond Hamilton, and H.P. Lovecraft’s The Picture in the House. Sadly, Lovecraft passed away that same
month of cancer.
In
Wellman’s story, Mr. Craw is attending a gathering of friends and associates at
“fluttery” socialite Lola Wurther’s home.
Wurther and her husband are well known, well-to-do occultists. The narrator of the story, who describes
himself as a “little, rheumatic old man”, is introduced to Craw and strikes up
a conversation with him. Therapeutic rapport
is soon established, and Mr. Craw opens up to the narrator about his troubled
past and current plight. Have I
mentioned that there is a full moon that night?
Unlike
Talbot, (but not nearly as far gone as le Loup), Mr. Craw already exhibits
several wolf-like characteristics, and acknowledges that he is a werewolf—if anyone cares to believe
him. Facing the truth about oneself is
an important first step towards personal change. But others are in denial, and see him as an
object of scornful mirth.
The narrator
of Wellman’s story takes him seriously though, and inventories details about
his hair, forehead, ears, eyes, and posture—just as Little Red Riding Hood
does. But the narrator, a natural
clinician, is more interested in the man’s history, and how the past has affected
his turbulent present. Typical of many
understaffed psychiatric facilities, Craw was recently declared ‘normal’ and
released back into society. He has not
been doing too well though.
We learn
the Craw used an ancient but reliable pharmacy to transform himself into a
werewolf. The ingredients are
belladonna, monkshood, henbane, hemlock, and “the fat of an unbaptized child.” All but the latter are relatively easy to
come by. Craw applied this as a salve,
and achieved results within a few days. A moonlit walk with female Liberal Arts major—whom he wound up partially
consuming—confirmed the diagnosis.
Perhaps
he has now reached rock bottom. He tells
the narrator that he wants to be cured of his lycanthropy, and was told by Mr. Wurther
that he and his wife could help him. He
was led to believe they were professional experts in satanic and occult
procedures, but is now less sure. Has he
become some kind of party joke this evening?
His clinical insight setting off internal alarms, the narrator leaves the party
early. He wants to avoid being abruptly
and violently removed from the Wurthers’ invitation list.
In
his short story, Wellman has deftly cut to the heart of lycanthropy—both its evil
attractiveness and its deeper nature.
Becoming a werewolf is more than enduring a mere psychic separation of
mankind’s daytime nobility from his rapacious night time animal nature, much
deeper than The Strange Case of Dr.
Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Lycanthropy is also more
than a magnified predatory hunger for flesh and blood. A very dark part of us all finds that hunting,
attacking, killing, and eating others—is sexy.
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