In what is probably the most famous narrative of an exorcism ever printed, a demon is supposed to have declared that his name was Legion because he was one of many devils possessing the same demoniac. Studies of magic and the occult in early modern Europe are also legion, but until recently works devoted to demonic possession – one of the most extreme manifestations of the supernatural imaginable – have been comparatively modest in number. One hopes that it is not a sign of the end of days, but the beginning of the third millennium has seen an outpouring of historical studies on possession and exorcism, most notably Nancy Caciola's Discerning spirits: divine and demonic possession in the Middle Ages, a work with important implications for the early modern period.

Sarah Ferber's monograph is a notable, and challenging, contribution to this trend. Although short (the main text is only just over 150 pages), this is not a book to be read quickly or casually. The author's fondness for paradox, together with her subtle and nuanced theoretical analysis, are both demanding and stimulating. Through detailed study of particular demonic possessions, Ferber argues, quite convincingly, that possession and exorcism in early modern France need to be understood within the multiple contexts of the Religious Wars, a growing preoccupation with witchcraft and the affective spirituality of the Catholic Reformation. Amid the tensions and uncertainties raised by confessional strife and civil war, affective spiritualities flourished and there was an imperative need for proofs of the traditional religious verities that underlay the social order. Exorcism, with its physically enacted conquest of the devil by the agents of God, provided dramatic and convincing evidence of these verities. (In fact, one of Ferber's most suggestive insights, unfortunately not fully developed, is to link exorcism with martyrdom as physical suffering endured to verify divine truth).

Ferber also emphasises the similarities between ecstatic spirituality and demonic possession, arguing in particular that both states particularly characterised the Lives of female religious in early modern France. Admittedly, a number of scholars, beginning at least with the late D. P. Walker, have made similar observations. But Ferber goes much further than her predecessors did, in suggesting that at least some of the possessed found in their possessions a means of devotional self-expression closely akin to that developed through mysticism. In so doing, Ferber cogently demonstrates that exorcism, far from being a deviant or marginal activity, epitomised beliefs and concepts that lay at the heart of post-Reformation Catholic spirituality.

Demoniacs shared another characteristic with mystics; both were, in the eyes of the church hierarchy, inherently dangerous. The heady wine of charismatic spiritual authority – whether divine or demonic – threatened to burst the wineskins of the institutional Church. Unsurprisingly the agents of that Church sought to control these potential begetters of chaos. More surprisingly, in all the cases that Ferber discusses, they were successful. This raises two related questions, neither of which Ferber really answers. Why did the French demoniacs docilely accept the verdicts of the clergy as to whether they were possessed by demons or angels? (An interesting contrast to the compliance of Nicole Obry and Marthe Brossier, at least in this respect, is provided by the obstinate unwillingness of the Fugger family to accept the verdict of St Peter Canisius on the nature of the exorcisms he conducted in their household.) And how were the demoniacs cured? On the face of it, exorcism was a very successful healing ritual and, unless one believes that demons can possess human bodies, and that exorcism actually expels them, the co-operation of demoniacs in their own cures requires a word of explanation.

While the great strength of Ferber's book is its original and penetrating analysis of cases of possession and exorcism, Philip Almond largely eschews analysis to present nine tracts on individual cases of purported demonic, or at least diabolic, activity, which took place in England in the second half of the sixteenth century and the first half of the seventeenth. As these sources were all printed in the early modern era, and are all available on EEBO, this may seem a rather pointless exercise. One way, however, in which such a collection may be of value is through its critical apparatus and the commentary accompanying the texts. Almond's introductions to the texts are serviceable, if basic. Although accurate and informative on the details of the specific cases, they are occasionally insufficiently critical of the texts. This is particularly true of the introductions to Jesse Bee's account of the possession of Thomas Darling and to Richard Baddeley's account of the possession of William Perry. Almond pays no attention to the fact that the first text was part of an organised propaganda campaign by the supporters of the exorcist John Darrell. (His assertion that Jesse Bee, the author of the text, was a ‘cunning man’ reveals a serious misunderstanding of the purposes of the work.) And Almond is insufficently alert to the possibilities of sheer invention and fabrication in the vehemently anti-Catholic account of the possession of William Perry. The problem is compounded by a failure to explain the criteria used in selecting texts for inclusion. Why did Almond reprint accounts of the Throckmorton children and Margaret Muschamp? They were believed to be tormented by witches, but they were never considered to have been possessed by demons and there was no exorcism in either of these cases.

Another feature of Almond's reprinting of these texts which is supposed to contribute to an understanding of them, is actually the most problematic feature of the work. This is the decision to modernise the texts, a task which became, as Almond declares, ‘an exercise in translation and interpretation and much less one of mere cosmetic work’ (p. x). This ‘translation’ makes Almond's texts useless for scholarly purposes. And since Almond's book is a hardcover, costing £55, it is unlikely to be used extensively by students. All things considered. this is not entirely unfortunate.