gave himself up to the commissioner Espaignel, and
confessed that he was the servant of a strong fiend, who was known by the
name of "Lord of the Forests:" by his power he was transformed into the
likeness of a wolf. The "Lord of the Forests" assumed the same shape; but
was much larger, fiercer, and stronger. They prowled about the pastures
together at midnight, strangling the watch-dogs that defended the folds,
and killing more sheep than they could devour. He felt, he said, a fierce
pleasure in these excursions, and howled in excess of joy as he tore with
his fangs the warm flesh of the sheep asunder. This youth was not alone in
this horrid confession; many others voluntarily owned that they were
_weir-wolves_, and many more were forced by torture to make the same
avowal. Such criminals were thought to be too atrocious to be hanged first
and then burned: they were generally sentenced to be burned alive, and
their ashes to be scattered to the winds. Grave and learned doctors of
divinity openly sustained the possibility of these transformations,
relying mainly upon the history of Nebuchadnezzar. They could not imagine
why, if he had been an ox, modern men could not become wolves by Divine
permission and the power of the devil. They also contended that, if men
should confess, it was evidence enough, if there had been no other. Delrio
mentions that one gentleman accused of lycanthropy was put to the torture
no less than twenty times; but still he would not confess. An intoxicating
draught was then given him, and under its influence he confessed that he
was a _weir-wolf_. Delrio cites this to shew the extreme equity of the
commissioners. They never burned any body till he confessed; and if one
course of torture would not suffice, their patience was not exhausted, and
they tried him again and again, even to the twentieth time! Well may we
exclaim, when such atrocities have been committed in the name of religion,

"Quel lion, quel tigre egale en cruaute,
Une injuste fureur qu'arme la piete?"

The trial of the unhappy Urbain Grandier, the curate of Loudun, for
bewitching a number of girls in the convent of the Ursulines in that town,
was, like that of the Marechale d'Ancre, an accusation resorted to by his
enemies to ruin one against whom no other charge could be brought so
readily. This noted affair, which kept France in commotion for months, and
the true character of which was known even at that time, merits no more