The pagan gods, he says, were driven out by Constantine, and with them “the majesty and good fortune of the Roman Empire perished and were overthrown”: the empire’s fortune and majesty declined and disappeared. Similarly, the pagan in Minucius had earlier boasted that, when the Romans conquered the Jews, the Jews’ god was also taken captive by Rome’s; and Rabshakeh told the Israelites that no god would deliver them from the Assyrians’ hands.

But these paradoxical claims about their power, bodily existence, mortality, assumption of shapes, transportation of bodies and sexual intercourse are adequately refuted by Zanchi, book 4, chapter 10; Pererius in his commentary and Tostatus in his questions on Genesis 6; Thomas Aquinas; Saint Augustine; Weyer; Thomas Erastus; Del Rio, volume 2, book 2, question 29; Sébastien Michaëlis, chapter 2 of On Spirits; and Dr Rainolds, lecture 47.

They may deceive people’s eyes, but cannot assume real bodies or bring about an actual transformation. As Cicogna demonstrates at length in book 4, chapter 4 of his All Kinds of Magic, these are “illusory and deceptive transformations,” mere illusions and tricks, like the story in the Suda of Pases’ coin, or that of Autolycus, Mercury’s son, who lived on Parnassus and acquired so much wealth by fraud and theft.

Since his father Mercury could leave him no money, he taught him many clever tricks for making a living: he could drive people’s cattle away and, if anyone pursued him, change them into whatever shapes he pleased. In this way he made himself very rich: “By this trick he acquired an enormous haul.” No doubt this is as true as the rest;

yet Thomas Aquinas, Durand and others generally concede this much: spirits have understanding far beyond ours; they can make likely conjectures and foretell many things; they can cause and cure most diseases and deceive our senses; they are highly skilled in every art and science; and even the least learned devil is “more knowledgeable than any human,” as Cicogna maintains on the authority of others.

They know the properties of herbs, plants, stones, minerals and so on, of every creature, birds, beasts, the four elements, stars and planets. They can apply and use them skilfully as they see fit, understanding the causes of all atmospheric phenomena and the like.

“They lend themselves to colours,” as Augustine puts it, “adapt themselves to shapes, attach themselves to sounds, place themselves beneath smells, pour themselves into flavours: demons deceive all the senses, even the understanding itself.” They deceive all our senses, even our understanding, at the same time.

They can bring about miraculous changes in the air and extraordinary effects, defeat armies, grant victories, help, advance, harm, frustrate and alter human undertakings and plans—with God’s permission—as they themselves see fit. When Charlemagne proposed to dig a canal between the Rhine and the Danube, these spirits knocked down at night whatever his workers had done during the day: “They succeeded in making the king abandon the attempt.” Such feats they can perform.

But Bodin’s belief, in book 4 of his Theatre of Nature—following Maximus of Tyre and the Platonists, presumably—that they can discover the secrets of a person’s heart or people’s thoughts is utterly false. His arguments are weak and adequately refuted by Zanchi, book 4, chapter 9; Jerome, book 2 of his commentary on Matthew, at chapter 15; the Questions to Prince Antiochus attributed to Athanasius, question 27; and others.

As for the orders of good and evil demons maintained by the Platonists, the idea is entirely mistaken, and the pagans’ good and evil genii must be rejected. These pagan writers do not agree among themselves on this point, as Dandini observes: “They do not agree on whether any are evil.”

Some hold that we mistakenly call spirits good or evil in relation to ourselves. If an ox or horse could reason, it would say that the butcher was its enemy because he killed it, and the grazier its friend because he fed it. A hunter preserves his game yet also kills it, and his game hates him nonetheless; “nor can a fish love the fisherman,” and so on.

But Iamblichus, Psellus, Plutarch and most Platonists acknowledge evil spirits, “and that we must guard against their harmful acts,” since they are enemies of humankind. Plato learned in Egypt, they say, that these spirits quarrelled with Jupiter and were driven down by him into hell.

What Apuleius, Xenophon and Plato maintain about Socrates’ divine spirit is utterly absurd; so is the claim about Plotinus’ spirit, that he likewise had “a god in place of a daemon”; and so is Porphyry’s conclusion about them all in general, that they grow angry if their sacrifices are neglected. Cardano goes further in his Hipperchen, maintaining that they feed on human souls.

“The elements sustain plants, plants sustain animals, and animals sustain humans; humans, too, will sustain other beings—not gods, since their nature is too far removed from ours, but therefore demons.” So, presumably, the reason for all the battles fought in every age and country is to provide them with a feast, their sole delight.

But to return to my earlier point: the claim that, when displeased, they fume and rage—for they presumably feed on the souls of beasts as we do on their bodies—and send many plagues among us, but do much good when pleased, is as empty as the rest. It is refuted by Augustine, City of God, book 9, chapter 8; Eusebius, Preparation for the Gospel, book 4, chapter 6; and others.

Yet I find that our scholastics and other theologians distinguish nine kinds of evil spirits, as Dionysius did of angels. In the first rank are the pagans’ false gods, formerly worshipped in various idols, which gave oracles at Delphi and elsewhere. Their prince is Beelzebub.

The second rank consists of liars and equivocators, such as Pythian Apollo and the like. The third comprises those vessels of wrath, the inventors of every evil, such as Theuth in Plato; Isaiah calls them vessels of fury. Their prince is Belial. The fourth consists of malicious, vengeful devils, and their prince is Asmodeus.

The fifth kind are deceivers, those associated with magicians and witches; their prince is Satan. The sixth are the spirits of the air that corrupt it and cause plagues, thunder, fires and so on. They are mentioned in Revelation, and Paul, writing to the Ephesians, calls them the princes of the air. Meresin is their prince.