The Testament of Solomon, Part 4

Last time, Ornias was dragged before King Solomon, and the king’s problems begin.

Seeing Solomon’s eventual downfall beginning here is not a majority opinion.  Klutz, in his Rewriting the Testament of Solomon, states that early Jewish versions of the book were much more sympathetic to Solomon, with the tales of his eventual downfall being inserted by Christian authors later on.  The scholarly editions of the text are actually composites of several different manuscripts which, at least one author has argued, does not show the diversity of the tradition.  (I’m choosing to read the book as a whole, which might be problematic historically, but I’d like to see where it gets me.)

Still, the tale of Solomon’s downfall goes back to 1 Kings, so the readers of the Testament would likely have had it in mind.  I’d argue that the seeds of Solomon’s downfall are sown from the very beginning.

Let’s get to the interrogation of the demon Ornias from Duling’s translation:

When I heard these things, I, Solomon, got up from my throne and saw the demon shuddering and trembling with fear.  I said to him, “Who are you? What is your name?”  The demon replied, “I am called Ornias.”

The formula “Who are you?  What is your name?” is quite common in this text.  As Solomon learns the names of the demons, he gains power over them.  Yet this, as we’re about to see, might not be sufficient.

I said to him, “Tell me, in what sign of the zodiac do you reside?”

A quick note on demons.  In Christian tradition, demons are usually seen as rebellious angels fallen from heaven, condemned to torment humanity and cast out from the site of God.  The grimoires follow the same idea – though some ambiguity as to the goodness or evil of particular spirits often arises – and many treat us to similar lists of demons, their stations, and their attributes.  The Testament, on the other hand, is less systematic, with demons having all manner of origins and fields of influence (often stellar).

As it turns out, Ornias does live in a constellation:

“In Aquarius; I strangle those who reside in Aquarius because of their passion for women whose zodiacal sign is Virgo.”

Puts a whole new pespective on “What’s your sign?”, doesn’t it?

Klutz gives what I think is a better answer.  The ancients had a number of different types of astrology.  One of these attributed particular parts of the world to particular signs of the zodiac.   Thus, Ornias strangles men who love women from another part of the world, when they should really be looking closer to home.  It’s a reiteration of the theme of danger coming from foreigners that turns up so often in the Testament.

For Monday – more than we ever wanted to know about Ornias!

Horrors in Arkham

No real posting tonight.  A few members of my gaming group wanted to play Arkham Horror next week, so I decided to run a solo game.

For future reference:  when the designer says a particular Old One makes for a “quick” game, it does not mean the same thing as an “easy” game.  Or maybe I need to work on my strategy.  Having two Star-Spawn of Cthulhu roam the streets of downtown Arkham doesn’t help matters, especially when your only combat-viable character can’t see one without getting driven insane almost immediately.  Bleah.

Back to the Testament tomorrow.

The Testament of Solomon, Part 3

Last time, we met the thumb-sucking demon Ornias and commented upon his depradations.  Next we come to Solomon’s response.

Solomon’s not sure quite what to do here – this is beyond his normal kingly duties.   He prays for long hours in the temple, until the archangel Michael comes to him, bearing a ring inscribed with a star that grants power over the demons.

Michael’s inclusion here has significance that might not be visible on first view.  Michael is known among Christians for his role in the final battle with Lucifer, but his first appearance was in the Tenth Book of Daniel, where he fights the Prince of Persia.   In that role, Michael was seen as the protector of Israel against the foreign kingdoms that fought against it.  This reflects an ongoing tension within the text between Solomon’s lands and the dangerous areas without that are the home of tyrants, demons, and – shocking! – loose women.

This ring is notable, as the practical magic of the time featured such rings attributed to Solomon.  Here’s a prominent example, taken from Flavius Josephus’ Antiquities of the Jews:

God also enabled him to learn that skill which expels demons, which is a science useful and sanative to men. He composed such incantations also by which distempers are alleviated. And he left behind him the manner of using exorcisms, by which they drive away demons, so that they never return; and this method of cure is of great force unto this day; for I have seen a certain man of my own country, whose name was Eleazar, releasing people that were demoniacal in the presence of Vespasian, and his sons, and his captains, and the whole multitude of his soldiers. The manner of the cure was this: He put a ring that had a Foot [sic - root] of one of those sorts mentioned by Solomon to the nostrils of the demoniac, after which he drew out the demon through his nostrils; and when the man fell down immediately, he abjured him to return into him no more, making still mention of Solomon, and reciting the incantations which he composed. And when Eleazar would persuade and demonstrate to the spectators that he had such a power, he set a little way off a cup or basin full of water, and commanded the demon, as he went out of the man, to overturn it, and thereby to let the spectators know that he had left the man; and when this was done, the skill and wisdom of Solomon was shown very manifestly…

I quoted the whole thing here because I’ve had to read this passage dozens of times and I wanted to spread the pain around.

Josephus’ statement and the Testament show some of the earliest instances of symbols used in many of the later grimoires.  First, we have a symbol, usually star-shaped, that is attributed to Solomon and that provides mastery over spirits.  Next, we have some sort of reflective surface – a cup, a bowl, or even a crystal – in which a spirit appears and can be bound.  These can vary considerably among different books, but the basic concept is very common within the tradition.

Once Solomon gets the ring, he hands it to his young friend.  The next time Ornias shows up, he hurls the ring at the demon’s chest, and Ornias is caught.  He promises the boy riches from the earth, but the boy knows that’s his money that was taken originally and tells him to can it.  Thus, he brings the demon before the king.

Next time – up close and personal with Ornias!

Downloads Galore

The Warburg Institute has some magical manuscripts online, but they’re really hard to find if you don’t know what you’re looking for. I did some digging and managed to turn up an Arabic Picatrix, a Latin version of the Tuba Veneris attributed to John Dee, and a French edition of La clavicule magique, et cabalistique du sage Roy Salomon. (These are strictly for personal use and not for putting up on your own site or republishing, otherwise the Warburg might not do this again and I’ll be mad.  Most of you wouldn’t, but it needs to be said.)

For those of you who want Cthulhoid goodness, a character sheet for Kenneth Hite’s Trail of Cthulhu RPG has just appeared online. It already terrifies me, as he’s managed to come up with a concept very similar to that which I’ve played around with when I’ve considered how I’d re-envision Call of Cthulhu. Get out of my head, Ken!

The Testament of Solomon, Part 2

We’ll begin our examination at the beginning, this time taken from Peterson’s text because I left the other at home:

And behold, when the Temple of the city of Jerusalem was being built, and the artificers were working thereat, Ornias the demon came among them toward sunset; and he took away half of the pay of the chief-deviser’s (?) little boy, as well as half his food.   He also continued to suck the thumb of his right hand every day. And the child grew thin, although he was very much loved by the king.

I have to stop here, because some interesting things are going on.  We see Ornias in the typical Middle Eastern guise of a disease demon – falling upon the weak to inflict suffering, in this case through sucking his thumb (I presume, but could be wrong, that the demon is drawing blood from him).  Yet something strange is going on here.  Why, for instance, does the demon take his food and money?  And, if that’s the case, why does he take half when he could clearly take it all?

The closest parallel to this in our own time is the pact with the devil, as portrayed in the myth of Faust and elsewhere.  Indeed, at about the time that the Testament was written, the magical papyri were circulating in Egypt.  These included a number of rites to call a parhedros, or spiritual helper, to aid the magician.  Still, none of these required so high an ongoing cost of maintenance as this, and there’s no mention of the boy entering into such an agreement with the spirit.

A more useful model might be found in Michael Swarz’s work on amulets found in Cairo from the 10th-15th centuries, which is a little bit out of our time period.  Much of the language on these documents is very legalistic in their terms, often borrowing phrases taken from the law.  Along with this came the notion that demons could in fact secretly marry humans, thereby being bound to them and stand to inherit their property.  There exist tales in Jewish tradition of rabbis called upon to adjudicate inheritance claims brought by the demons born of a man and his “wife” who want to take over a man’s house after his death.

Of course, what’s going on between Ornias and the boy can’t really be described as a marriage.  Nonetheless, it seems to have similar aspects:  an “agreement” the boy has entered into without consent which requires him to give up some of his property.  Thus, it seems to be a variation on a common theme that might have been circulating at the time.

This is just a best guess, however.  If someone’s got a better idea, please let me know.

For Wednesday – Solomon finds out, and things get ugly.

Averoigne I:30

Being Vespers, the fifth day of November, Anno Domini One Thousand Two Hundred and Seventy-Five, in the square before the Cathedral of Saint-Azedarac…

“To me, good people of Ximes!” exhorts the bishop, brandishing his crosier.  His jowls wobble in the light, revealing a repulsive man steeped in lies and gluttony.  “We will go forward into our cathedral and aid the saint in his battle against the Old Serpent and his wiles!”

Richard leaps onto one of the barricades.  “Listen unto me, all of you!  To throw ourselves into the arms of the Devil is madness, not faith!  Let us sing and pray here in support of our blessed Saint, and enter at a time when God signals that it is His will!”

“You are a coward, Richard le Courtois!”  The bishop’s face reddens.  “You will not fight for the glory of God?”

“Remember the horrible fate of the brave guards and priests who entered!” retorts Richard.  “There is no glory within, only death of body and soul!”

Bishop Philbert looks about him.  The townsfolk – at least, those who seem willing to listen to anyone – have taken Richard’s words to heart, and have either fallen to the ground in prayer or are vacating the area with all speed.  Even his altar boys have deserted him.  The processional cross and the reliquary gather snow as he speaks.  He snarls and waves to the guards.

Julien shouts and rushes between the first two and Richard.  A sword rushes past his ear, but he twists and catches the other guard through a chink in his armor.  The man, while still alive, faints from the shock of the blow.  Behind him, another guard has come at Richard from behind.  Richard strikes him a shallow wound in the side with his sword.  He looks at it in shock – he cannot remember the last time he struck a man.  Has he ever?  His opponent swings at him, and Richard leaps off the barricade at the last moment.

The battle soon turns against them.  After exchanging blows for a moment, Julien’s remaining guard drives his sword at Julien.  The student’s best parry can only move the blow from his heart to his side.  He feels a tearing pain and feels warm blood flowing through his tunic.  Victor soon arrives, his hair filled with snowflakes, with a phalanx of spearmen who surround the two companions.

“Lower your weapons,” the guard says.  Reluctantly, Julien and Richard do so, and lie down on the ground.

“Excellent work!” cries the bishop.  “Now, Victor, march forward with me into the cathedral!”

“Go forth before us, my bishop!”  Victor bows.  “I will round up your followers  by force, if need be.  Then, we and these doubters,” he kicks Richard sharply, “will march forward to aid you and the Saint in your struggle.”

“So be it!  Amen!”

The bishop grabs the reliquary.  With a prayer to God and the saints, he makes an ungainly run for the door of the church.

A horrid screaming is heard, but it is cut off quickly.  The light streaming from the church brightens almost imperceptibly.

“I was wondering when he’d do that.”  Victor helps Richard to his feet.  The lawyer runs to his friend’s side.  Julien winces as Richard and a guard examine the wound.

“It’s not bad,” says the guard.

“So you say,” Julien groans.

Victor gives Richard a quick salute.  He turns toward the cathedral, looking up at it defiantly.  “What now, sir?”

–

Marcel blows the whistle, finding it to be of fine quality and exceptional shrillness.  He lets it drop on its cord as the first monk moves in, swinging his sword.  The stroke goes wide, and Marcel, pumped with adrenaline, swings his fist with all his might.  He connects with the monk’s chest.  The monk staggers backward for a moment, just long enough for Marcel to break away, stumbling through the snow while occasionally blowing the whistle.

Shouts grow nearer, and soon the soldiers stand nearby.  One of them exclaims as the monstrosities emerge from the curtain of snow, and Marcel can see them quail before this unnatural visitation.  Some move backward at the relentless advance of their foes.

Marcel draws himself up and points.  “Good men, these fiends are indeed the work of Satan  but behold!  I myself have struck one of them, and found them to be flesh and blood!  If this is the case, they may be injured, and if they may be injured, they may be killed!  Go forward, in the name of God, and fight in His Holy name!”

Everyone is impressed, including the friar.  The men cry out in lust for battle, charging into the headless monks.

What happens next, Marcel cannot remember clearly.  The snow wafts around the figures, blurring friend and foe.  He hears screams and the scrape of metal on metal.  He can see dark patches flower in the snow.  He continues to hold his cross forward, more out of fear than faith.

The sounds stop.  Something comes forward.  Marcel says a quick prayer and prepares to flee.

The captain of the men steps forward.  Behind him, another supports a dragging member of their group.  Marcel is quickly at their side, working (ineffectually, he thinks) to bind their wounds.

“We must retreat!” calls out the captain.  “We have lost a brave friend, and no doubt the spawn of Satan will return in force!”

Marcel looks around.  “Where is Thibault?”

–

Thibault waits until the guards arrive before he departs.  He hears the battle behind him, but he presses forward.  His duty is to find Simon and return him, and no matter what, he shall perform that duty.

He is inside once more, following the faint cries of pain he hears – but where?  He enters a storeroom, casts about for a moment, and looks toward a box in the middle of the room.  Shoving it aside reveals a trapdoor, beneath which a ladder leads into a passage carved out of the living rock.  Thibault grabs a nearby torch, places it between his teeth, and climbs down.

The passage twists, and others open up on either side.  After a few turns, Thibault scorches the walls with his torch to keep track of his progress.  He hopes he can make his way back from that point.  For a while, he cannot hear the moaning – there it is again!  He quickens his pace.

After a few more turns, the corridor widens, and he is in a larger room with passages leading off in all directions.  He smells something odd – brimstone, perhaps – and spies a man, just out of the light, chained to a boulder in the center of the room.

Thibault moves forward, speaking in a low voice.  “My friend, I am Thibault le Gris, summoner to the Archbishop of Vyones.  I have come to free you and bring you to -“

He stops and beholds at what his torch has revealed.

Simon has indeed changed.  Malnutrition might account for his spindly arms and legs, and the grey cast of his skin may be due to dirt or lengthy time spent without sunlight.  His beady eyes with drooping lids, his flattened, upturned nose, his huge elongated ears that turn toward Thibault, and what is unmistakably light fur running over his chest and shoulders – these are more difficult to reconcile with a human form, even that of a notorious criminal and possible heretic.

Somewhere, down one of the other passages, Thibault hears a cacophony of squeals, roars, and other less definable cries.  With them, the slap of sandals on stone comes nearer.

The Testament of Solomon, Part 1

What is the Testament of Solomon?

The first centuries AD saw a large number of documents circulating claiming to be the work of famous religious figures.  Through the efforts of the Christian Church, with the aid of Constantine, a canonical collection of Scriptures were selected and chosen for inclusion in the Bible.  A wide variety of manuscripts were omitted for a variety of reasons.  One of these might have been the document we’ll be examining, the Testament of Solomon.

A testament was supposedly the work of a patriarch of ancient times, written at the time of his death as a testimony to his life.  This particular document was supposedly linked to the king Solomon, one of the most ambiguous figures in Scripture.  On one hand, Solomon was one of the kings of Israel most favored by God.  He was chosen to build the Temple in Jerusalem, after his father David had drawn disfavor upon himself through his affair with Bathsheba.  He asked God for wisdom and was blessed for his request.  Yet the end of his reign saw him turn from his faith and build temples to foreign gods, a distinct Old Testament no-no.  It is this status that most likely led to the fascination that Solomon held for many years, and thus to the Testament, as Torijano has suggested.

What the Testament truly constitutes, however, is a list of demons, with their names, their attributes, and their functions.  Such lists became a standard feature of many grimoires, most notably the Goetia, over the years.  What sets Solomon’s Testament about from these other works, however, is its narrative format and the unusual character of many of the spirits it describes.  Many of these demons are connected with specific rites that have no significance within the story itself, but which would have been of great interest to readers interested in magical cures and the like.  As such, it shows a demonology as was appearing right out of pagan times, the concerns of its people with healing and morality, and many other interesting traits.

Because of this, and because I’ve just read a great deal of material on the Testament purely by chance, I’m going to spend a number of posts discussing it and its significance.  Much of the material will be coming from different sources, so feel free if you want me to clarify, cite, or expand on a particular point.  You can find a version of the Testament online here if you’d like to read along.  For my part, I’ll be reading the annotated edition by Charles Duling in volume 1 of The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha.

On Monday, we’ll get started with the curious case of the thumb-sucking monster.

Quick Life Update

I’ve been off for a few days entertaining various Harmses who came up for Thanksgiving.  I fixed the dinner, with “fixed” being interpreted as “heated up stuff in containers from Wegmans.”  Among other things, we went to see Beowulf.  I certainly hope I’m not one of the few people who found the Grendel fight hilarious – I mean, just give the guy a loincloth and be done with it!

The book sails along, thanks to some pre-break interlibrary loans.  I finally got my copy of Bloch’s Flowers from the Moon and Other Lunacies and Stross’ The Jennifer Morgue, both of which I’ve enjoyed greatly.  (Stross drops at least one nod to Delta Green in that book – it’s pretty arcane, but let me know if you figure it out.)  On top of that, Mythos collector Matt Carpenter was kind enough to send me a dozen or so volumes of otherwise unobtainable Mythos works which have already been of inestimable value.

I believe I was supposed to write up something on the Testament of Solomon this week, but I’ve got over five hours for that.  Hope everyone had a happy Thanksgiving, or that you at least are having a good weekend if you’re international.

Simon Gates of the Necronomicon Copyright Office Material

Back on my Simon is Peter Levenda entry, John writes:

This is a “monumental” claim (I suspect. at least, for some people). So, why not reveal to the world full disclosure by scanning the second page, redacting the Harper Collins employee name, thereby leaving nothing out that could be construed as conspiratorial on your part?

Anything else leaves the lingering taint of mystery that haunts these types of social and literary curiosa.

John is under the unfortunate belief that me posting anything on this blog, or indeed doing anything other than a providing complete admission that Simon is the God of the New Millennium and the Necronomicon r00lz, can be construed by some people as anything other than conspiratorial. I’m sure someone will say that I’m doing this to sell a book, or because I’m jealous of Simon’s amazing success, or because I’m an evil force in league with the Powers of Darkness, or that I have no legitimacy because I’m not a Serious Student of the Occult who brunches with Marduk every Thursday. Trust me, I’ve been there.

Then again, I can’t really prove that unless I do post those documents, right?

It took me a little while to redact them properly and post the images. Plus, WordPress has decided to be difficult about making thumbnails – if an image is too big, it won’t do it. I thought the idea of thumbnails was so you could have big images, but what do I know?

Anyway, let’s get going. First, the front page:

You can follow the next link to visit the back page of the form, sent on November 1, 2006. As you can tell, the back page has quite a good amount of contact info blacked out. All of it is names and contact info for particular HarperCollins employees, but I’ve left the address and first phone number digits in so others can verify them.

I’ll note that Section 8 contains an error, in stating that HarperCollins is the author, other copyright claimant, or owner of exclusive rights. The front of the form explicitly recognizes Simon/Levenda as the author and claimant. I didn’t catch that on my first examination, so I’m bringing it up now lest anyone believe that I am Hiding the Truth from the Public by posting a document to my blog.

Copyright Office Application Back

But why stop there? I’ll throw up the Copyright Office’s cover letter confirming that I did indeed get it from them. It also proves that Papers is a blog that spares no expense to bring you the truth, so long as the expense is really small.

Copyright Office Letter

I’ll add that anyone who asserts that this is a document I myself invented is too damn lazy to write the Copyright Office for their own copy.

That should cover my bases. Happy Thanksgiving!

Dunsany on “The Queen’s Enemies”

While researching Queen Nitocris for the Encyclopedia, I chanced across this letter from Dunsany in the newly public New York Times archives that discusses his play, “The Queen’s Enemies.”  This later went on to inspire Lovecraft’s own depiction of Nitocris in such stories as “Under the Pyramids” (“Imprisoned with the Pharaohs”, for those of you not up on such things).  Here we can read about Dunsany’s painstaking research into Nitocris for the play:

It was not only easier but more amusing to imagine her character and all the names of her enemies than to be bothered with reading about her.

Nonetheless, it’s a fun play.  It seems Dunsany is responding to queries from an admirer, as he adds the following:

If there is a moral in the play I trust that neither you nor any other lady who has had anything to do with the play will ‘profit by’ the moral, for I do not consider it at all right to give a dinner party and drown your guests.

I think Dunsany is being overly judgmental here.  I really don’t mind if you drown your enemies at a banquet, so long as they deserve it and I’m not on the guest list.

(As a side note, I’ve also been informed that Queen Nitocris has been found to be a scribal error and never existed.  Fascinating little stuff like that keeps cropping up.)