head of a great lady, the too beautiful dame of
Lancinena.

The accused, when they can, avert the torture by killing themselves.
Remy, that excellent judge of Lorraine, who burned some eight hundred
of them, crows over this very fear. "So well," said he, "does my way
of justice answer, that of those who were arrested the other day,
sixteen, without further waiting, strangled themselves forthwith."

* * * * *

Over the long track of my History, during the thirty years which I
have devoted to it, this frightful literature of witchcraft passed to
and fro repeatedly through my hands. First I exhausted the manuals of
the Inquisition, the asinine foolings of the Dominicans. (_Scourges_,
_Hammers_, _Ant-hills_, _Floggings_, _Lanterns_, &c., are the titles
of their books.) Next, I read the Parliamentarists, the lay judges who
despised the monks they succeeded, but were every whit as foolish
themselves. One word further would I say of them here: namely, this
single remark, that, from 1300 to 1600, and yet later, but one kind of
justice may be seen. Barring a small interlude in the Parliament of
Paris, the same stupid savagery prevails everywhere, at all hours.
Even great parts are of no use here. As soon as witchcraft comes into
question, the fine-natured De Lancre, a Bordeaux magistrate and
forward politician under Henry IV., sinks back to the level of a
Nider, a Sprenger; of the monkish ninnies of the fifteenth century.

It fills one with amazement to see these different ages, these men of
diverse culture, fail in taking the least step forward. Soon, however,
you begin clearly to understand how all were checked alike, or let us
rather say blinded, made hopelessly drunk and savage, by the poison of
their guiding principle. That principle lies in the statement of a
radical injustice: "On account of one man all are lost; are not only
punished but worthy of punishment; _depraved and perverted
beforehand_, dead to God even before their birth. The very babe at the
breast is damned."

Who says so? Everyone, even Bossuet himself. A leading doctor in Rome,
Spina, a Master of the Holy Palace, formulates the question neatly:
"Why does God suffer the innocent to die?--For very good reasons:
even if they do not die on account of their own sins, they are always
liable to death as guilty of the original sin." (_De Strigibus_, ch.
9.)

From this atrocity spring two results, the one pertaining to justice,