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Old Thiess, a Livonian Werewolf: A Classic Case in Comparative Perspective
In 1691, a Livonian peasant known as Old Thiess boldly announced before a district court that he was a werewolf. Yet far from being a diabolical monster, he insisted, he was one of the “hounds of God,” fierce guardians who battled sorcerers, witches, and even Satan to protect the fields, flocks, and humanity—a baffling claim that attracted the notice of the judges then and still commands attention from historians today.
In this book, eminent scholars Carlo Ginzburg and Bruce Lincoln offer a uniquely comparative look at the trial and startling testimony of Old Thiess. They present the first English translation of the trial transcript, in which the man’s own voice can be heard, before turning to subsequent analyses of the event, which range from efforts to connect Old Thiess to shamanistic practices to the argument that he was reacting against cruel stereotypes of the “Livonian werewolf” a Germanic elite used to justify their rule over the Baltic peasantry. As Ginzburg and Lincoln debate their own and others’ perspectives, they also reflect on broader issues of historical theory, method, and politics. Part source text of the trial, part discussion of historians’ thoughts on the case, and part dialogue over the merits and perils of their different methodological approaches, Old Thiess, a Livonian Werewolf opens up fresh insight into a remarkable historical occurrence and, through it, the very discipline of history itself.
289 pages, Paperback
First published March 23, 2020
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233 people want to read
About the author
Carlo Ginzburg
71 books246 followersBorn in 1939, he is the son of of Italian-Ukranian translator Leone Ginzburg and Italian writer Natalia Ginzburg. Historian whose fields of interest range from the Italian Renaissance to early modern European History, with contributions in art history, literary studies, popular cultural beliefs, and the theory of historiography.
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Displaying 1 - 14 of 14 reviews
November 14, 2020
"It is not often one has the privilege of hearing a werewolf struggle to explain his practices, beliefs, and very being."
This excellent meditation on the efficacy of and lack of efficacy of comparative historiography focuses on one of Ginzburg's most unrelenting and fascinating topics: the 1691 testimony of the titular werewolf. Yep, not shit. There was a guy in late 17th century Livonia who regaled his interrogators with accounts of his transformation into a werewolf. It gets better. When pressed by his questioners, Thiess recounted how he and others would journey into hell and fight witches and other minions of Satan for the prize of fertility's bounty (we in, the crops will be good, basically). If you've read Ginzburg's Night Battles, this will sound awfully familiar, since this was basically what the benandanti were doing, and Ginzburg runs with that. Taking those two geographically distant accounts along with others (there were other Baltic werewolves!), Ginzburg, over the course of his works developed the nifty idea that these were all remnants of some pre-Christian fertility warrior cult.
Lincoln isn't so sure and much of this work is the back and forth between them, which is interesting in its own right, though it tends to get bogged down in jargon and -isms. I'm not sure I find Lincoln's objections so convincing since Ginzburg's theory is, just that, a theory, but one that makes sense in a broader scheme of things.
This excellent meditation on the efficacy of and lack of efficacy of comparative historiography focuses on one of Ginzburg's most unrelenting and fascinating topics: the 1691 testimony of the titular werewolf. Yep, not shit. There was a guy in late 17th century Livonia who regaled his interrogators with accounts of his transformation into a werewolf. It gets better. When pressed by his questioners, Thiess recounted how he and others would journey into hell and fight witches and other minions of Satan for the prize of fertility's bounty (we in, the crops will be good, basically). If you've read Ginzburg's Night Battles, this will sound awfully familiar, since this was basically what the benandanti were doing, and Ginzburg runs with that. Taking those two geographically distant accounts along with others (there were other Baltic werewolves!), Ginzburg, over the course of his works developed the nifty idea that these were all remnants of some pre-Christian fertility warrior cult.
Lincoln isn't so sure and much of this work is the back and forth between them, which is interesting in its own right, though it tends to get bogged down in jargon and -isms. I'm not sure I find Lincoln's objections so convincing since Ginzburg's theory is, just that, a theory, but one that makes sense in a broader scheme of things.
September 23, 2021
3.5, rounded up. The transcript of the trial of Thiess, an 80-something year old peasant and self-professed werewolf, was fascinating. And I always love the notes / references Ginzburg includes in his work; reading through those is a joy in itself.
As the subtitle "A Classic Case in Comparative Perspective" makes clear, a comparison of methodological approaches by which we interpret history and social phenomena is central to the book. The theory and method behind Ginzburg's and Lincoln's respective interpretations of the werewolf trial are juxtaposed, with some back-and-forth in the form of published responses and even a transcript of a conversation between the two of them. I found this less compelling than the trial itself and the scholars' interpretations of it, but still interesting (they view the trial very differently).
I found Ginzburg's arguments more persuasive than Lincoln's, but since I have read and loved several of CG's books, I am not unbiased. Lincoln is at his best when analyzing and critiquing Ginzburg's work, and he effectively points out some inconsistencies in the latter's evidence --the Russian sources CG pulls from are shaky, upon closer examination, and by widening the sample pool of evidence, Lincoln is able to demonstrate that some of the similarities between what Thiess describes in his trial and what the Benandanti (agrarian cult in Friuli, Italy - see Ginzburg's The Night Battles) describe are somewhat more ambiguous than they seemed initially when Ginzburg connected them.
But for all that Lincoln (respectfully) faults Ginzburg for being swayed by what he wants to see in the available evidence, Lincoln's own interpretation of the trial feels exceedingly informed by very modern ideas and thin on evidence. He views Thiess' testimony as subversive, a cleverly veiled critique of the 17th century class system of landowners and peasants, as well as resistance by an ethnic Livonian against rule by the German minority ruling class.
The socio-cultural landscape in Europe still included the divine right of kings and saw judges as instruments of god's will. By the late 17th century there were fissures beginning to appear in the intractability of class, concepts of ownership and labor, and the state and its representatives as divinely ordained, but only just. There has probably been quiet resentment of aristocracy everywhere it has ever existed, but he doesn't provide evidence to support the (unusual) idea of a conceptual framework that peasants ought to own the crops they harvested and grew on land owned by a lord or bishop.
(Incidentally, for an excellent microhistory that gives a wonderfully thorough treatment of the social movements and changes taking place in Europe--though most specifically Germany--in the late 17th century to provide context for the events it describes, I recommend The Last Witch of Langenburg.)
Overall, well done and very interesting!
As the subtitle "A Classic Case in Comparative Perspective" makes clear, a comparison of methodological approaches by which we interpret history and social phenomena is central to the book. The theory and method behind Ginzburg's and Lincoln's respective interpretations of the werewolf trial are juxtaposed, with some back-and-forth in the form of published responses and even a transcript of a conversation between the two of them. I found this less compelling than the trial itself and the scholars' interpretations of it, but still interesting (they view the trial very differently).
I found Ginzburg's arguments more persuasive than Lincoln's, but since I have read and loved several of CG's books, I am not unbiased. Lincoln is at his best when analyzing and critiquing Ginzburg's work, and he effectively points out some inconsistencies in the latter's evidence --the Russian sources CG pulls from are shaky, upon closer examination, and by widening the sample pool of evidence, Lincoln is able to demonstrate that some of the similarities between what Thiess describes in his trial and what the Benandanti (agrarian cult in Friuli, Italy - see Ginzburg's The Night Battles) describe are somewhat more ambiguous than they seemed initially when Ginzburg connected them.
But for all that Lincoln (respectfully) faults Ginzburg for being swayed by what he wants to see in the available evidence, Lincoln's own interpretation of the trial feels exceedingly informed by very modern ideas and thin on evidence. He views Thiess' testimony as subversive, a cleverly veiled critique of the 17th century class system of landowners and peasants, as well as resistance by an ethnic Livonian against rule by the German minority ruling class.
The socio-cultural landscape in Europe still included the divine right of kings and saw judges as instruments of god's will. By the late 17th century there were fissures beginning to appear in the intractability of class, concepts of ownership and labor, and the state and its representatives as divinely ordained, but only just. There has probably been quiet resentment of aristocracy everywhere it has ever existed, but he doesn't provide evidence to support the (unusual) idea of a conceptual framework that peasants ought to own the crops they harvested and grew on land owned by a lord or bishop.
(Incidentally, for an excellent microhistory that gives a wonderfully thorough treatment of the social movements and changes taking place in Europe--though most specifically Germany--in the late 17th century to provide context for the events it describes, I recommend The Last Witch of Langenburg.)
Overall, well done and very interesting!
April 16, 2023
Old Thiess, A Livonian Werewolf: A Classic Case in Comparative Perspective (2020) by Carlo Ginzburg and Bruce Lincoln is, as far as I can tell, the best English-language scholarly book about the fascinating figure of Old Thiess. Old Thiess (short for Mattheis, the Baltic version of Matthew) was an octogenarian man who was put on trial in 17th century Livonia (modern Latvia and Estonia) after proudly proclaiming himself a werewolf. Not a monstrous werewolf in the traditional model, but a “hound of God” who harrowed hell and fought evil witches to return fertility to the land. But just because Old Thiess is the best English book on this obscure subject doesn’t mean it is always a satisfying read.
The book includes an English translation of the entirety of the transcript from Old Thiess’s trial, an invaluable primary document for those interested in the case. The first essay in the book is from Otto Hofler (1901-1987), one of the first scholars to write about Old Thiess. Which would be fine, of course, if not for the fact that Hofler was a Nazi. He didn’t join the party to save his life or even his job; he was a true believer, a committed Nazi since 1922 and a member of Henrich Himmler’s SS Ahnenerbe. And it’s not as if Hofler’s opinions on poor Old Thiess were unrelated to his Nazi leanings; Hofler used Thiess’s belief that he joined a pack of werewolves to fight evil witches as evidence for his Mannerbund theory, the idea that society arises from the bonds created by men who form super special no-girls-allowed ritual associations (never mind that Thiess said he fought alongside women werewolves), but that only Nordic men have the “distinctive gift” of “state-building power” (45). While there might be a case in which an essay by a Nazi adds something to a book on history, religion, or culture–I would be hard-pressed to find it, given that accepting Nazi ideology indicates a pretty large dearth in your critical thinking skills–this is certainly not the case for Hofler. His “scholarly” writing about Thiess is clearly more about his own bigotry than the werewolf in question. If you do pick up Old Thiess, feel free to skip this chapter in the knowledge that you are not missing anything.
The rest of the book comprises Ginzburg’s and Lincoln’s dueling interpretations of Old Thiess and his unusual form of lycanthropy. Lincoln’s argument is intriguing and, in my opinion, plausible in part. Ginzburg’s argument is intriguing but, faced with any scrutiny, reveals itself to be based mostly on imagination rather than evidence. Lincoln argues that Old Thiess’s claimed lycanthropy was a form of resistance against the upper class Germans who were occupying his indigenous Baltic lands. The Germans believed that Livonians were backwards, primitive people, especially with regard to their beliefs in witchcraft and lycanthropy. In Lincoln’s view, Thiess invented his tale of werewolves defending the fertility of the Livionian lands as a sort of subtle “screw you” to the German inquisitors: you think that Livonians are savage and beastly like werewolves? Well, if we were werewolves, we would use our abilities to defend ourselves against those who would steal the fruits of our agricultural labor, whether they are evil witches or occupying Germans. Ginzburg takes a less grounded approach, comparing Old Thiess to other groups of people across Europe, like the Italian benandanti and the Hungarian taltos, who claimed to possess magic powers and fight evil forces. Ginzburg claims that these groups represent the survival of “a single agrarian cult” characterized by Eurasian-style shamanism that once dominated all of Europe, in which people entered ecstatic states to fight for their communities against magical forces. Ginzburg’s arguments are, in my opinion and in Lincoln’s, lacking in any real grounding, based on shaky if not shoddy comparisons and little if any good evidence. Ginzburg even spends a good chunk of one of his essays discussing a dream reported by Sigmund Freund’s patient known as the “Wolf-Man,” as if this random person’s random dream could provide any sort of evidence in a historical argument.
The last third or so of the book consists of a conversation between Ginzburg and Lincoln about their conflicting perspective on Thiess. While I had high hopes for this exchange, it was ultimately very unsatisfying. Lincoln tries to get Ginzburg to acknowledge that his arguments could be based on unfounded comparisons between peoples from across wide geographic and temporal expanses, and that Old Thiess’s case should be considered in its local cultural and historical context rather than as evidence for a single shamanistic cult. But Ginzburg mostly refuses to engage, diverting the conversation to abstract questions about methodology and obscure scholars. For example, he asks, “Would it be possible to say that Benveniste worked within the Saussurean paradigm?” (182). I don’t know, I thought we were here to talk about a werewolf!
In summary, Old Thiess is probably one of the best English-language books for learning more about the old Livonian werewolf, because it is one of the only ones. It is definitely worth the read if you’re interested in this odd little topic, provided you are willing to skip the Nazi part and skim some of Ginzburg’s fluffier essays.
The book includes an English translation of the entirety of the transcript from Old Thiess’s trial, an invaluable primary document for those interested in the case. The first essay in the book is from Otto Hofler (1901-1987), one of the first scholars to write about Old Thiess. Which would be fine, of course, if not for the fact that Hofler was a Nazi. He didn’t join the party to save his life or even his job; he was a true believer, a committed Nazi since 1922 and a member of Henrich Himmler’s SS Ahnenerbe. And it’s not as if Hofler’s opinions on poor Old Thiess were unrelated to his Nazi leanings; Hofler used Thiess’s belief that he joined a pack of werewolves to fight evil witches as evidence for his Mannerbund theory, the idea that society arises from the bonds created by men who form super special no-girls-allowed ritual associations (never mind that Thiess said he fought alongside women werewolves), but that only Nordic men have the “distinctive gift” of “state-building power” (45). While there might be a case in which an essay by a Nazi adds something to a book on history, religion, or culture–I would be hard-pressed to find it, given that accepting Nazi ideology indicates a pretty large dearth in your critical thinking skills–this is certainly not the case for Hofler. His “scholarly” writing about Thiess is clearly more about his own bigotry than the werewolf in question. If you do pick up Old Thiess, feel free to skip this chapter in the knowledge that you are not missing anything.
The rest of the book comprises Ginzburg’s and Lincoln’s dueling interpretations of Old Thiess and his unusual form of lycanthropy. Lincoln’s argument is intriguing and, in my opinion, plausible in part. Ginzburg’s argument is intriguing but, faced with any scrutiny, reveals itself to be based mostly on imagination rather than evidence. Lincoln argues that Old Thiess’s claimed lycanthropy was a form of resistance against the upper class Germans who were occupying his indigenous Baltic lands. The Germans believed that Livonians were backwards, primitive people, especially with regard to their beliefs in witchcraft and lycanthropy. In Lincoln’s view, Thiess invented his tale of werewolves defending the fertility of the Livionian lands as a sort of subtle “screw you” to the German inquisitors: you think that Livonians are savage and beastly like werewolves? Well, if we were werewolves, we would use our abilities to defend ourselves against those who would steal the fruits of our agricultural labor, whether they are evil witches or occupying Germans. Ginzburg takes a less grounded approach, comparing Old Thiess to other groups of people across Europe, like the Italian benandanti and the Hungarian taltos, who claimed to possess magic powers and fight evil forces. Ginzburg claims that these groups represent the survival of “a single agrarian cult” characterized by Eurasian-style shamanism that once dominated all of Europe, in which people entered ecstatic states to fight for their communities against magical forces. Ginzburg’s arguments are, in my opinion and in Lincoln’s, lacking in any real grounding, based on shaky if not shoddy comparisons and little if any good evidence. Ginzburg even spends a good chunk of one of his essays discussing a dream reported by Sigmund Freund’s patient known as the “Wolf-Man,” as if this random person’s random dream could provide any sort of evidence in a historical argument.
The last third or so of the book consists of a conversation between Ginzburg and Lincoln about their conflicting perspective on Thiess. While I had high hopes for this exchange, it was ultimately very unsatisfying. Lincoln tries to get Ginzburg to acknowledge that his arguments could be based on unfounded comparisons between peoples from across wide geographic and temporal expanses, and that Old Thiess’s case should be considered in its local cultural and historical context rather than as evidence for a single shamanistic cult. But Ginzburg mostly refuses to engage, diverting the conversation to abstract questions about methodology and obscure scholars. For example, he asks, “Would it be possible to say that Benveniste worked within the Saussurean paradigm?” (182). I don’t know, I thought we were here to talk about a werewolf!
In summary, Old Thiess is probably one of the best English-language books for learning more about the old Livonian werewolf, because it is one of the only ones. It is definitely worth the read if you’re interested in this odd little topic, provided you are willing to skip the Nazi part and skim some of Ginzburg’s fluffier essays.
August 23, 2023
I loved this book. It's an intriguing book in many ways, particularly in its structure. First we get the actual testimony of Old Thiess, then an interpretation from a mid-century German scholar, whose reading is intriguing for its racist implications, then a reading from Carlo Ginzburg – his interpretation of the testimony is dependent on comparisons to the benandanti cult he described in The Night Battles – and then a very different reading from Bruce Lincoln. Next, Ginzburg and Lincoln go back and forth in separate essays, and then, finally, they have a long conversation about historiographic method. This is fascinating stuff, to my mind, but this ends up being a book on methods of historiographic practice more than it is, really, a book about werewolfery in Livonia in the 17th century. About that, everyone agrees, we actually know very, very little.
July 11, 2025
Molto interessante il lavoro svolto sulla trascrizione dei documenti che narrano la vicenda.
December 28, 2020
Fascinating, complex reading. I enjoyed it immensely.
January 12, 2021
I read about this case in a Fortean Times article recently and my very good lady sneakily bought the book for me for Christmas!
The trial transcript itself is interesting in that it gives an insight into court procedure within a caste divided culture and also tantalising insights into both local folklore and the peasant struggle against their Deutsche overlords.
The initial essays and subsequent rebuttals are dense, academic treatises, veering through Freudian analysis, nomenclature and varying sociological models to wrangle some proof for two opposing hypotheses of Thiess' veracity or inventiveness.
But the most interesting portion of the book is represented by the blank transcript of two conversations between the book's authors, where they discuss their ideas and approaches. And eventually come to intelligent accord over their opinions. While still being able to agree to disagree.
Well worth reading and likely invaluable as a study tool for any historian, linguist, social scientists or folklorist.
The trial transcript itself is interesting in that it gives an insight into court procedure within a caste divided culture and also tantalising insights into both local folklore and the peasant struggle against their Deutsche overlords.
The initial essays and subsequent rebuttals are dense, academic treatises, veering through Freudian analysis, nomenclature and varying sociological models to wrangle some proof for two opposing hypotheses of Thiess' veracity or inventiveness.
But the most interesting portion of the book is represented by the blank transcript of two conversations between the book's authors, where they discuss their ideas and approaches. And eventually come to intelligent accord over their opinions. While still being able to agree to disagree.
Well worth reading and likely invaluable as a study tool for any historian, linguist, social scientists or folklorist.
June 24, 2023
Half analysis of the case of Old Thiess, half musings on the nature of analysis itself. It's not a cover-to-cover cohesive essay, instead a variety of writings, translations and transcripts arranged together to take us through a journey of trying to put Old Thiess into wider context. It achieves this well, the discourse presented is informative and thought provoking, though it'll lose more casual readers with its heavy focus on historical academia.
October 26, 2022
The transcript of the trial is wonderful, but makes up only a small portion of the book. As someone who is not an academic folklorist, I found some of the scholarly commentaries that make up the rest of the book a bit boorish.
September 4, 2025
Sicuramente un libro e una storia interessante ma la lettura risulta molto complicata. Curiosa e istruttiva la comparazione della differente lettura dello stesso caso, quello di Thiess, da parte di storici come Ginzburg, Lincoln e non solo...
April 29, 2020
Deeply academic, but insightful.
March 25, 2021
This was an amazing read and I couldn't recommend it any higher.
Just WOW.
Just WOW.
December 1, 2024
Lettura faticosa (e non poteva essere altrimenti, visto che è che un saggio accademico) ma estremamente interessante
July 16, 2023
4.5.
Very interesting and thrilling, but too much speculative sometimes.
Read "The myth of the wolfman" by Roger Bartra for another perspective.
Very interesting and thrilling, but too much speculative sometimes.
Read "The myth of the wolfman" by Roger Bartra for another perspective.
Displaying 1 - 14 of 14 reviews