Our dealer in old books had purchased it a few days before at Sotheby’s House, where had taken place (from the 6th to the 16th of December 1871) the sale of the books of baron Seymour Kirkup, an English collector, deceased in Florence. The manuscript was inscribed as follows on the sale catalogue:
No 145. Ameno (R. P. Ludovicus Maria [Cotta] de). De Dæmonialitate, et Incubis, et Succubis, Manuscript.
Sæc. XVII-XVIII.
Who is that writer? Has he left printed works? That is a question I leave to bibliographers; for, notwithstanding numerous investigations in special dictionaries, I have been unable to ascertain any thing on that score. Brunet (Manuel du libraire, art. Cotta d’Ameno) vaguely surmises his existence, but confuses him with his namesake, most likely also his fellow-townsman, Lazaro Agostino Cotta of Ameno, a barrister and literary man of Novara. “The author,” says he, “whose real Christian names would seem to be Ludovico-Maria, has written many serious works....” The mistake is obvious. One thing is sure: our author was living in the last years of the 17th century, as appears from his own testimony, and had been a professor of Theology in Pavia.
Be that as it may, his book has seemed to me most interesting in divers respects, and I confidently submit it to that select public for whom the invisible world is not a chimera. I should be much surprised if, after opening it at random, the reader was not tempted to retrace his steps and go on to the end. The philosopher, the confessor, the medical man will find therein, in conjunction with the robust faith of the middle ages, novel and ingenious views; the literary man, the curioso, will appreciate the solidity of reasoning, the clearness of style, the liveliness of recitals (for there are stories, and delicately told). All theologians have devoted more or less pages to the question of material intercourse between man and the demon; thick volumes have been written about witchcraft, and the merits of this work were but slender if it merely developed the ordinary thesis; but such is not its characteristic. The ground-matter, from which it derives a truly original and philosophical stamp, is an entirely novel demonstration of the existence of Incubi and Succubi, as rational animals, both corporeal and spiritual like ourselves, living in our midst, being born and dying like us, and lastly redeemed, as we are, through the merits of Jesus-Christ, and capable of receiving salvation or damnation. In the Father of Ameno’s opinion, those beings endowed with senses and reason, thoroughly distinct from Angels and Demons, pure spirits, are none other but the Fauns, Sylvans and Satyrs of paganism, continued by our Sylphs, Elfs and Goblins; and thus is connected anew the link of belief. On this score alone, not to mention the interest of details, this book has a claim to the attention of earnest readers: I feel convinced that attention will not be found wanting.
I. L.
May 1875.
The foregoing advertisement was composed at the printer’s, and ready for the press, when, strolling on the quays[2], I met by chance with a copy of the Index librorum prohibitorum. I mechanically opened it, and the first thing that struck my eyes was the following article:
De Ameno Ludovicus Maria. Vide Sinistrari.
My heart throbbed fast, I must confess. Was I at last on the trace of my author? Was it Demoniality that I was about to see nailed to the pillory of the Index? I flew to the last pages of the formidable volume, and read: