There are no more Sabbats – but we still have sorcerers

At Halloween we think about ghosts and goblins and strange things that go bump in the night, but there’s one of those spooky phenomena that we don’t have to worry about anymore.

When Judge Joseph Arsene Breaux died in 1926, his estate left to the Louisiana State Museum a memoir he’d written about south Louisiana in the decades just before the Civil War. He apparently wrote the memoir about 1901, and in it he noted “there are no longer any Sabbats and this makes it all the more important to gather what old timers tell of these astonishing apparitions.” Sabbats were apparently bands of “hook-nosed wrinkled old women, men of bad repute and strange appearance, and loose-moraled young people” who used magical whirlwinds and other devices to carry away the innocent.

“At the beginning of the last century [the 1800s] there were still a multitude of these phenomena, as well as wizards and little devils dancing in the deep forest of St. Martinville, the uninhabited areas of St. Landry, the woods near Grand Lake Verret, etc.,” Judge Breaux wrote.

“Aerial singing and melancholy cries were heard on misty nights in winter, joined to the loud strains of musical instruments.” From up in the air would come the sound of dogs barking, screams, and laughter.

This was “the devil’s Sabbath” passing by, sometimes stopping in an isolated place for a nocturnal meal and to dance “infernal round-dances.”

A traveler passing by the place would be stopped by an invisible hand. He would hear “strange noise and rustlings, shouts, and laughter in the depth of the woods. At dawn, cloven footprints could be seen. … [Sometimes] women’s shoes, broomsticks, and the leftovers of a banquet were found in places just vacated by the devils, sorcerers, and witches.”

The judge recounted the tale of a man who, in 1785, “was chased one night by one of these infernal bands and said he had clearly seen men and women pass above him, up in the air.” The man said he even recognized one of the men, whom he questioned the next Sunday after church. “The devils carried me off,” the friend said.

Then, according to Judge Breaux, “The neighbors separated only after secrets had changed hands, secrets which [were] never revealed.” But, if the Sabbats were gone, there were still other things to worry about, according to the memoir.

“People still believe to some extent in sorcerers, spells, and certain imaginary beings, like the lutin (hobgoblins), who enjoy tormenting men and animals. Fortunes are told by means of certain ridiculous practices. Marvelous cures are believed in and attempted; these work through the agency of mysterious words, … secret remedies, and assistance from sleepwalkers and guerisseurs or healers.”

Even in 1901, Judge Breaux asserted, “I know some prominent people who firmly believe that with one word, touch, or wink, sorcerers work on livestock and make them sickly or cause their death. They assert that a certain powder can kill men and animals, and cause the crops to fail.” And, of course, the feu follet and loup garou may still be on the prowl “in the deep forest of St. Martinville,” or maybe right in the middle of town.

You can contact Jim Bradshaw at jhbradshaw@bellsouth.net or P.O. Box 1121, Washington LA 70589.