The Beast of Gévaudan emerged in one of the more isolated rural regions of eighteenth-century France. The historical Gévaudan encompassed territory now largely associated with Lozère and Haute-Loire, including the rugged Margeride Mountains. Wolves were already a familiar danger in rural France, but beginning in 1764 a succession of attacks on people drew attention because of their frequency, brutality, and concentration within the region. Women and children tending livestock were particularly vulnerable.

The first officially recorded fatality was 14-year-old Jeanne Boulet, killed near Les Hubacs on June 30, 1764. Her burial record from Saint-Étienne-de-Lugdarès states that she had been killed by a “ferocious beast.” An earlier encounter had already been reported in the Langogne area, where cattle reportedly drove off a large animal that attacked a person tending the herd.

More attacks followed through the summer and autumn. Witness descriptions varied, but recurring features included a large wolf-like body, reddish or tawny coloring, dark markings, a long tail, and unusually aggressive behavior toward humans. Some survivors and hunters described the animal as larger or differently proportioned than ordinary local wolves. Those descriptions ultimately helped transform a series of animal attacks into the story of“the Beast.”

By late 1764, the attacks had become serious enough to provoke an organized response. Military personnel and local officials coordinated hunts across difficult mountain terrain, while substantial rewards were offered for killing the animal. The Bishop of Mende interpreted the attacks through the religious worldview of the period and called for public prayers. Despite the growing manpower devoted to the hunt, attacks continued.

Several confrontations became famous in their own right. In January 1765, a group of children near Villaret reportedly fought off the attacking animal rather than abandoning one of their companions. Jacques Portefaix became celebrated for the group's resistance and later received royal recognition. Other victims and survivors were similarly transformed into prominent figures in the developing story of Gévaudan.

As the crisis continued, professional wolf hunters were brought into the region. The d'Enneval family attempted to track and kill the animal but failed to stop the attacks. Royal gun-bearer François Antoine subsequently arrived with hunters, dogs, and royal backing. His involvement marked the point at which an already serious provincial crisis had become an affair of the French crown.

In September 1765, Antoine killed an exceptionally large wolf near Les Chazes. The animal was examined, exhibited, and taken to Versailles, where it was presented as the Beast of Gévaudan. Contemporary witnesses reportedly identified it as the animal they had encountered, and for a time the attacks appeared to have ended.

But the Gévaudan killings were not finished.

Reports resumed after Antoine had departed, creating an awkward problem for a royal administration that had already declared the monster dead. Attacks continued during 1766 and into 1767, although the royal government showed little enthusiasm for reopening a case that had supposedly been resolved.

The final phase culminated in June 1767. After another fatal attack, a local hunt was organized under the Marquis d'Apcher. On June 19, Jean Chastel shot a large wolf-like animal during the hunt. Following its death, the notorious sequence of fatal attacks attributed to the Beast came to an end.

Later folklore substantially embellished Chastel's role. In particular, the famous image of Chastel calmly completing a prayer before killing the Beast with a silver bullet belongs to later legend rather than the contemporary record. The historical event is compelling without requiring those additions: Chastel participated in an organized hunt and shot an animal after years of lethal attacks.

The animal killed in 1767 was examined soon afterward. Contemporary descriptions characterized it as wolf-like but unusual in proportion. Its recorded teeth were consistent with a canid. The carcass was preserved poorly and deteriorated while being transported, preventing the kind of zoological examination that might resolve its identity today. There is consequently no surviving specimen available for modern genetic testing.

The identity of the Beast has inspired an extraordinary range of later theories. Suggested candidates have included exceptionally large wolves, wolf-dog hybrids, hyenas or other exotic captive animals, and animals deliberately trained or controlled by people. More elaborate versions of the legend have incorporated human killers, conspiracies, armor, and other extraordinary mechanisms.

The archival record does not require such elaborate explanations. Historian Jean-Marc Moriceau, whose research draws heavily on parish registers, administrative correspondence, and the broader history of wolf predation in France, places the Gévaudan killings within the documented phenomenon of wolves attacking humans. His work emphasizes the rural circumstances in which the attacks occurred and treats the events within the larger history of conflict between people and wolves.

That does not mean every historical question has been answered. Contemporary descriptions sometimes portrayed the attacking animal as unusual, multiple animals may have been responsible, and at least two large wolves were killed and examined during different stages of the crisis. Even the familiar singular term“the Beast” may oversimplify a three-year sequence involving more than one predator.

The Beast of Gévaudan is therefore historically remarkable without requiring an unknown species. People really were attacked and killed, authorities really mobilized soldiers and professional hunters, large wolves really were killed, and the attacks did continue after the royal authorities believed they had killed the culprit. What remains less certain is whether the entire sequence can legitimately be attributed to one extraordinary animal at all.