theory of the invisible world may be, and
probably is, quite correct; and the witch-finders, from Sprenger to
Hopkins and Mather, are much-maligned men.

On the other hand, humanity, noting the frightful consequences of this
belief; common sense, observing the futility of the evidence on which
it is based, in all cases that have been properly investigated;
science, more and more seeing its way to inclose all the phenomena of
so-called "possession" within the domain of pathology, so far as they
are not to be relegated to that of the police--all these powerful
influences concur in warning us, at our peril, against accepting the
belief without the most careful scrutiny of the authority on which it
rests.

I can discern no escape from this dilemma: either Jesus said what he
is reported to have said, or he did not. In the former case, it is
inevitable that his authority on matters connected with the "unseen
world" should be roughly shaken; in the latter, the blow falls upon
the authority of the synoptic Gospels. If their report on a matter of
such stupendous and far-reaching practical import as this is
untrustworthy, how can we be sure of its trustworthiness in other
cases? The favourite "earth," in which the hard-pressed reconciler
takes refuge, that the Bible does not profess to teach science,[56] is
stopped in this instance. For the question of the existence of demons
and of possession by them, though it lies strictly within the province
of science, is also of the deepest moral and religious significance.
If physical and mental disorders are caused by demons, Gregory of
Tours and his contemporaries rightly considered that relics and
exorcists were more useful than doctors; the gravest questions arise
as to the legal and moral responsibilities of persons inspired by
demoniacal impulses; and our whole conception of the universe and of
our relations to it becomes totally different from what it would be on
the contrary hypothesis.

The theory of life of an average mediaeval Christian was as different
from that of an average nineteenth-century Englishman as that of a
West African negro is now, in these respects. The modern world is
slowly, but surely, shaking off these and other monstrous survivals of
savage delusions; and, whatever happens, it will not return to that
wallowing in the mire. Until the contrary is proved, I venture to
doubt whether, at this present moment, any Protestant theologian, who
has a reputation to