Edward Hunter’s Key of Rabbi Solomon and Mormonism

Recently, commenter Adonia Zanoni asked me to write a review of the nineteenth-century Key of Rabbi Solomon, as issued by Hell Fire Club.  This is probably late for most potential buyers, as only the 11-copy super deluxe edition remains for sale, but I’ll handle this as best I’m able.

Full disclosure: I might be working with Hell Fire on a project in the future, so keep that in mind when reading this review.

The Key consists of two booklets, one consisting of a facsimile of the original manuscript of the Key (currently in private hands), and the other a brief introduction to and transcript of the manuscript. All of this is attractively presented and printed, although you’ll certainly see differences based upon the edition acquired (I went for the cheap kidskin).

As for the manuscript itself, I’ve compared it with the Sibley Clavis edited by Joseph Peterson. Most of it corresponds in organization and chapters to that manuscript, although the text is different enough to suggest a different translator – up to a point.  That is, the book breaks off in the middle of the chapter of the talismans of Mercury, corresponding to Wednesday. Thus, if you were expecting a full Key, you will be disappointed.

Yet, sad to say, I’ve had to back burner a more in-depth examination of the book, in order to deal with one particular aspect of the book. Let’s look at the title page:

The Keys
of
Rabbi Solomon

Translated accurately from the
Hebrew into English
by
Edward Hunter

According to the book’s introduction included in the transcript, this Edward Hunter is identical to the man of the same name (1793-1883) who served as the presiding bishop of the Church of Latter-Day Saints for over three decades. Here are some illustrative quotes from the introduction:

It is now little surprise to that we find yet another top Mormon leader who has transcribed what can be determined as highly ritualized, magical, Solomonic arts.

This manuscript is hand written by the Mormon Bishop, Edward Hunter himself.

This manuscript is indeed that “smoking gun”, finally putting to rest the question surrounding Mormon Hermeticism, Kabbalism, and the practice of Solomonic ritual magic.

So – is it the “smoking gun”? Connections between the early Mormons, especially Joseph Smith, and ceremonial magic have been hotly debated back and forth for years. If I might dip into a highly complex and controversial question, I can say that what little literature I’ve read on the topic on both sides shows little knowledge of the literature and practice of ritual magic.

Let’s focus in on this manuscript now, with a discussion examination of the title page above. I think most readers will already be aware that King Solomon did not write any of the “keys” associated with him. Further, the Key of Solomon‘s origins lie in the Greek Hygromanteia, with no proof of Hebrew origins; indeed, what Hebrew copies we have, such as the Gollancz edition, are copies of much later editions translated into Hebrew. The introduction to the transcript claims that Hunter “transcribed” the book, but that is incorrect with regard to the statement on the title page, on which Hunter claims to have translated the book from Hebrew. I can expect a certain degree of deception on the title page of a grimoire, but this certainly raises questions as to how much we can believe any one part of it.

Next, is the Edward Hunter to whom this manuscript is ascribed the same person as the Mormon Bishop? As I’ve learned through researching figures such as “William Bellhouse” and “George Graham,” making sure that one has the right person out of many with a similar name is crucial when it comes to history. Can we connect these two Edward Hunters?

The book provides little helpful material. In the original listing, Hell Fire noted that the watermark of “Whatmans 1827” appeared on the paper. (This piece of information seems to have been lost in a website move that occurred in the last week, but you can still read it here.) Thus, it’s quite plausible that the date of composition occurred during Bishop Hunter’s life.

Beyond that, however, the old Hell Fire website description only tells us that the manuscript “is believed by specialists to have been [created] sometime around 1830 by the Bristol based merchant Edward Hunter,” who “later had links to the Mormon groups in the United States.” This was certainly not Bishop Hunter, who was born and raised in Pennsylvania. Thus, we have a gap between the promotional material and the introduction.

As you might recalled, we were assured that the the book is “hand written by the Mormon Bishop, Edward Hunter himself.” In that case, we might compare it to other writings attributed to him, including this letter from Edward Hunter to Joseph Smith from October 27, 1841. This is treacherous ground, as I cannot say definitively that one or the other of these documents was not written for Hunter by a clerk or employee, although the number of errors in both suggests a professional scribe was not involved in either one.

Nonetheless, I have gone through a few pages of both documents, extracted images of identical words, and present them below, based upon the principle of fair use:

Word Hunter Letter Hunter Clavis
That  Hunter Letter That  Hunter Clavis That
All  Hunter Letter All  Hunter Clavis Illustrations All
The Hunter Letter The Hunter Clavis Illustrations The
Expences  Hunter Letter Expences  Hunter Clavis Illustrations Expences
Being Hunter Letter Being Hunter Clavis Illustrations Being
And Hunter Letter And Hunter Clavis Illustrations And
Proper Hunter Letter Proper Hunter Clavis Illustrations Proper

The above items speak for themselves – but in case it remains unclear, I should point out in particular the crossbars in the “t”s in “that,” the lower part of the “g” in “being,” and the curve on the “d” in “and.”

At this point, the evidence points away from the Mormon bishop as the transcriber or translator of the book. I should add that, after having contacted the publisher, the editor, and a researcher involved in the Hunter Clavis, I have yet to see any countervailing evidence that might convince me otherwise. Perhaps it will be forthcoming in the following weeks, and I will update this post if it is.

Want to know more about the book? Do you have a perspective on the evidence? In either case, just leave it in the comments below.

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Published in: on April 24, 2018 at 6:33 pm  Leave a Comment  

Revelore Press on the Magi and Scandinavian Magic, with a Note on Hutton

Some quick updates:

  • Revelore Press is a new publisher that has taken up the mantle – and some of the back catalog – of Rubedo Press, especially their Cyprian-related publications.
  • Revelore also just released the enjoyable new book by the wonderful Al Cummins, A Book of the Magi, dealing with their appearances in folklore, festival, and magic. The only downside to this is that reading it prompted me to start finding  Magi references in all sorts of magical works, which I send to Al, which means he’s probably going to get stuck with writing a sequel. If you’re interested in Christian-themed folk magic or popular religious practices, it’s worth looking at.
  • Revelore has also announced an upcoming book called Svartkönstbocker, a compilation of extracts from the black books of Sweden taken from the work of the late Thomas K. Johnson. The publisher has the rights to his thesis, which is this tremendous translation of many black books that I’ve reviewed previously. I’ll keep an eye on this one, to see how much of those thirty-five grimoires covering five hundred pages they’re going to reprint.
  • Speaking of Swedish magic and folklore… someone here was asking for information on the year walk, or årsgång. I found this article on the topic, for those interested.
  • I’m still working on the Hunter Clavis review, which is delayed due to time constraints. I’m comparing its contents to Sibley – those who want to compare it to Mathers or Skinner and Rankine can do so themselves, because otherwise I won’t have time to work on anything else.
  • Due to an unexpected work-related book review assignment, I have now read all of Hutton’s book The Witch twice, which means that I now have more extensive opinions on it.  I’d stand by my assessment as “pretty good,” but I can see some more of the seams. For example, the subtitle, “A History of Fear from Ancient Times to the Present,” is bound to throw people off, as the period of the witch trials and afterward is given only a short chapter, along with examinations of particular issues during the trials that relate largely to the British Isles. The chapters on elves and familiars are both must-reads if you’re interested in those topics – but finding them in a book on witches isn’t exactly where one might expect to encounter them. There’s certainly nothing more than a brief allusion to modern witchcraft, and certainly no mention of particular figures or critique of doctrines.
Published in: on April 12, 2018 at 6:52 pm  Comments (3)  

Review – Dr. Faust’s Mightiest Sea-Spirit

The German occult scene has seen many books of ritual magic attributed to the infamous Doctor Faust appear over the years. Most of these have remained untranslated into other languages, but recently they have begun to appear in English, most notably through the Mexican publisher Enodia. Following their releases of the Magia Naturalis et Innaturalis and the Compendium of Unnatural Black Magic, they now present one of the books that I’ve been most keen to read ever since I read about it in Butler’s Ritual Magic: Grosser und Gewaltiger Meergeist. Now Nicolás Álvarez’ latest translation, Doctor Johannes Faust’s Mightiest Sea-Spirit, finally scratches that itch.

Before going forward, I should add that I’m in talks with another publisher to work on an edition of Meergeist. Please read the following in light of this potential conflict of interest. Plus, this is a book I purchased, rather than a review copy.

We begin with an introduction from Álvarez , providing insight into the background and cultural significance of the book and its contents. It particularly notes the more imaginative aspects of the ritual, and Álvarez also provides us with insights on the early modern attitudes toward the imagination and its usage in magic. The only small addition I wanted were a few notes, especially for the mythological and folkloric significance of underwater beings. The book also includes a bibliography, but lacks an index.

The bulk of the book consists of four treatises on magic, beginning with the Sea-Spirit itself. In this experiment, a magician creates a massive metal circle, using chains from a gallows and nails from a breaking wheel.  He places it by a body of water, and then brings three companions and a black hen. We then see a curious interlude in which Lucifer and his subservient spirits appear before the magician and discuss the great riches that they hold. Then Lucifer and Amaymon take on the form of Persian merchants and greet the magician, asking him whether they have the seven souls necessary to complete the operation. The magician cites himself, his three companions, the two demons, and a black hen, and demands the treasure.

Álvarez provides us with three additional rites, two of which are connected with the water. The first, taken from Darmstadt MS 831, is a waterside rite to call up the spirit Quirumndai, who can bring treasure and teach the magician secrets in the guise of an old, grey-cloaked man. The second, the Veritable Jesuit Coercion of Hell, is not actually linked to the Jesuits, as you’ve probably guessed, but a magical operation to call the spirit Tarafael to bring up treasure from the depths. The third, Arcanum Experientia Praetiosum, is geared toward a dream incubation rite, such as those for the spirit Balancus in Oberon. A key part of this is creating a spirit sigil which is placed under the window and then beaten with a rod while calling upon the archangel Michael until the spirit performs one’s bidding. All four total about seventy pages of text.

I haven’t had time to check the translation at any length, but if you want to compare, Álvarez places the German text in an appendix.  Overall, the book is attractive and thorough in presentation, although the text might have benefited from another once-over – and my copy could have used a little more packing material.

I don’t want to leave this on a negative note, however. You’ve got four texts here that have never been translated into English before, one of which has not been published before now, to my knowledge. This constitutes a great new resource for anyone who collects grimoires, especially those who are fascinated in Faustian magic in particular. If either of those describes you, you should definitely send some money to Mexico for this one.

Published in: on March 15, 2018 at 7:33 pm  Leave a Comment  

Followup on Lecouteux’s Traditional Magic Spells

I had a nice discussion in the comments with Frater A. P. regarding my review of Lecouteux’s Traditional Magic Spells.  He’s been looking over Lecouteux’s translations in the book taken from Dr. Heinrich von Wlislocki’s Volksglaube und Volksbrauch der Siebenbürger Sachsen. What he’s found – and I’ve checked on some of his conclusions – is that there are some problems with the translations given in the book.  The seriousness of these discrepancies varies, but sometimes it extends to leaving out instructions – or even charm passages – from what’s presented in the book.  You can read his analysis here.

To be clear, my sympathies in cases of error are often on the side of the author. Mistakes creep into books quite easily.  After extensive work on Oberon, and level upon level of transcription, corrections, and proofing by multiple people, I once witnessed someone bring me their new copy, ask for a signature, open the book, and immediately catch an error. It happens.

That being said, I can share my impressions of the error. For me, it would be the sort of thing that would occur the first time copying a text.  Even if you’re confident that you’ve got it all, it’s still possible to make some major omissions from time to time when you miss a line or section.  I’m wondering if it’s what happened here, and it falls over the line of what I consider an acceptable error.

None of this is to diminish what Frater A. P. has discovered, which is an important and useful reminder that it’s important to vet sources, to double-check what we’re writing, and call out errors when we find them.  I’d suggest that anyone who wants to use Traditional Magic Spells to do their best to check the original sources if it matters for whatever work they are doing.

I’m interested on hearing others weigh in about what they think is appropriate.

Published in: on February 20, 2018 at 7:39 pm  Comments (7)  

Review: Touch Me Not!

In an age of stunning works of occult art, it bears remembering that much of the literature of ritual magic is largely bereft of these qualities. The goal of most such works was to record a magical procedure for later use, instead of creating a work that was aesthetically pleasing. Even the circles and characters on which they depended were drawn with varying degrees of care and accuracy.

We do have some exceptions, however, such as Wellcome 1766, the Compendium Rarissimum totius Artis Magicae, known better as Noli Me Tangere, or Touch Me Not.  It’s the source for many images of demonology and magic that have turned up increasingly online, such as the one below:

Dagol deals with rude customers with aplomb

Courtesy Wellcome Institute

Now, Fulgur Limited has brought us a stunning new edition of this manuscript, Touch Me Not!

The book itself is the size of a large art book, its black cover emblazoned with the title in red.  My copy arrived with some wear, but this was atypical and Fulgur quickly replaced it. (I gave my worn copy to a friend, telling him he’d be fine so long as he followed the instructions on the cover as I handed it to him.) Within we have a full facsimile of the manuscript, plus some of the more impressive plates repeated as part of the introduction. If you want a NSFW coffee table book of occult art that you can leave out to horrify guests, this would be most excellent for the purpose.

The contents are very good, as well.  After an introduction to the entire work, we get parallel texts, one the Latin and German original, the other an English translation. Throughout the text, Tilton and Cox note the sources from which the text was taken, including a German version of The Book of the Sacred Magic of Abra-Melin, the Heptameron, the Magical Calendar, and the works of del Rio, Agrippa, and Trithemius. One interesting source is von Eckhartshausen’s Aufschlüsse zur Magie, published from 1788-92.  Thus, we can assign the text to the late eighteenth century at the earliest. This likely places it among a number of eighteenth-century magical works from Germany that were assembled from various sources for the collector’s market.

For those who are curious, this does not present a comprehensive work of magic, but a collection of various portions of rites, procedures involving various narcotics and incenses, instructions to locate treasure and to make a magical mirror, and admonitions to practitioners. Some of the material is of interest, especially that not presented before in English, but most of it seems to be dressing for the impressive illustrations.

Tilton’s introduction to Touch Me Not! provides insight into a number of different issues, including the origins of the text, the use of narcotics in magic, and the magical treasure-hunting of the time.  The work incorporates a bibliography, but not an index – although the inclusion of one would be debatable, given the length of the text.

It’s fair to say that the book will be of great interest to students and aficionados of occult art, as well as to collectors of handsome occult works. If you’re assembling a collection of works on ritual magic based upon textual content or influence, this might be a purchase for later – although waiting to purchase magical works from small presses often leads to disappointment…

 

 

 

Published in: on January 7, 2018 at 11:45 pm  Leave a Comment  

Review: Traditional Magic Spells for Protection and Healing

Oddly enough, despite his extensive catalog of works published through Inner Traditions, Professor Claude Lecouteux’s new releases get little attention. His latest work, Traditional Magic Spells for Protection and Healing, didn’t show up in their catalog, and I only learned of it while exploring the shelves of the Union Square Barnes and Noble.  It’s likely many readers won’t hear of it, which is a shame. Lecouteux provides us with a marvelous excavation of the intellectual strata of magic, providing a wealth of spells and charms for these purposes. Yet the book is also a frustrating one in terms of organization.

traditional-magic-spells-for-protection-and-healing-9781620556214_hrIf you are interested in reading a collection of spells to protect and heal derived from magical traditions from across Europe, this certainly fits the bill. The format is very similar to that in The Book of Grimoires, although the coverage is much more broad. Frankly, I wish that Lecouteux had downplayed Pliny, given his availability in translation, but the bulk of material consists of remedies from medieval and early modern manuscripts and non-English works and journals dealing with folklore. The short commentaries vary in their usefulness for me and seem spotty in nature, but I think less specialized readers will find them welcome.

In terms of its content, this book is wonderful. As for its organization, it leaves me completely baffled as to why it was arranged as it was.  We begin with magical methods of diagnosis, followed by a lengthy section giving the cures for various ailments in alphabetical order.  Initially each section appears to be arranged chronologically from the earliest charms to the latest, but this breaks down in some of the longer sections. We even have a section for dealing with spells that heal multiple ailments – although not all the spells that do so are included in this section.

The next chapter deals with protections against evil spells, the Evil Eye, and witchcraft. Next come compilations of charms against demons, and then against fairies, trolls, and other such spirits – although remedies for demons are mixed in with them. Then we return to healing, this time for animals – although I’ve found charms to cure animals in previous sections – and finally to ways of warding off natural disasters, ghosts (who are distinguished from other spirits), witchcraft, and other dangers.

All of this is followed with a curious series of appendices: a brief work on healing by Saint Bernardine of Siena; descriptions of the deeds of sorcerers by Bernard Gui and Cyrano de Bergerac (a passage I read as satiric); a brief section on encrypted and enciphered spells; an untranslated page on healing from the works of Jean Fernel; procedures for making a man impotent; a list of French and Belgian saints and the afflictions they cure, and a few pages of talismans attributed to Apollonius of Tyana.  I won’t say that these are unconnected with the text, but why exactly this particular selection of topics was chosen as appendices is not always clear. Overall, it’s hard to come up with reasons why this book would have taken the form it did.

If you’ve got a book as I’ve just described, what will really pull it together is a good, comprehensive index that can make the contents available howsoever they are organized. This one… is not so great.  In many cases it simply covers the categories already present, without detailing other appearances of the same topic elsewhere.

This is not to say that this is an unwelcome book.  The material collected within is great, the bibliography is an amazing resources, and a casual reader will be very happy with it. If you’re working on any projects on spells like this, you’ll probably also want it – but you’ll likely find problematic if you want to find anything in particular, or if you start asking yourself why “Anthrax” and “Charbon (Anthrax)” are two different headings, for instance. Nonetheless, unless you’ve spent a great deal of time building a magical library and are a master of several languages, you probably don’t have a collection like this.

Published in: on December 21, 2017 at 5:41 pm  Comments (9)  

Review – Bellingrandt and Otto’s Magical Manuscripts in Early Modern Europe

In 1710, a huge collection of magical, cabalistic, and alchemical manuscripts, part of the collection of medical professional Samuel Schröer, came up for sale. In that climate of official censorship, pulling off such an exchange would seem remarkable – but the agent put out a small catalog, most likely circulated face to face, and a buyer was located for the bulk of the books.

This large collection, mostly intact, now rests at the Leipzig University Library – if you’d like to see it yourself, Mihai Vartejaru has provided a list of the digitized copies with convenient links. What the new book Magical Manuscripts in Early Modern Europe, by Daniel Bellingradt and Bernd-Christian Otto, provides is not the text of these works, but a history and description of the collection.  The work is released as part of the Palgrave Pivot series, dedicated to releasing shorter pieces of scholarship than what might usually appear in book format.

The main portion of the book provides a brief discussion of manuscripts of ritual magic, the details of the collection’s sale, and its significance within the book trade, the intellectual climate, and the legal system of the time.  All of this is interesting – save for the background on magical books which is available through other sources – but it is also very brief.  By my count, it covers about thirty-five pages, not including references – the length of a long-form journal article.  I hesitate to mention this, but given the book’s price, I think it deserves to be mentioned.

The real meat of the book, however, is in the first appendix: a detailed list of the 140 books in the collection, most of which still survive and are available. For each one in which the information is known, we are told the title(s), ascribed authors, size and pagination, languages, and contents.  The latter are quite diverse.  We have treatises on astronomy, Kabbala, and numerology, along with a few different versions of the Key of Solomon. We also have manuscripts attributed to Abramelin and Faust that are printed elsewhere, and a wide variety of works dedicated to all manner of talismans, consecrations, and other procedures.  Collections have been dedicated to love, hate, military matters, treasure hunting, invisibility, and other purposes.  A number of brief operations of note are also present. Two will conjure the infamous Baron, while another calls for bringing a pizza to the crossroads. No doubt everyone in the occult hipster community will be talking about the magical crossroads pizza in a few years…

Anyway, the authors give us seventy pages of this material, which will be the major draw of the book for most of you. The work is rounded out with a reprint of the original 1710 catalog and a brief index.

What would have really driven this book over the top would have been a discussion beyond the context of the collection, diving into its contents. What do the contents tell us about its owners? What were their areas of particular interest? Were they practitioners or collections? (At least one owner seems to have been using these works, a notice buried in the endnotes tells us.) Is it missing any notable period works? Given the sheer amount of material, any analysis would have to be lengthy and detailed, but with the length of the main text, I think there could certainly have been room.

In brief, the discussion of the collection’s milieu is interesting but brief, the modern catalog of the manuscripts is amazing and thought-provoking, and all of this deals with a collection of manuscripts of which we will be hearing a great deal in the future. No, I don’t know of anyone else working on them, but there definitely will be soon.  I should note that it contains no actual transcripts of particular rites, lest anyone seek them out.  Nonetheless, the book is a preview of the next stage in grimoire scholarship and publishing, and you should definitely get it if that interests you.

UPDATE, 11/11: That lengthy appendix detailing the contents of all the books has been posted on Academia.edu.

Published in: on October 8, 2017 at 12:24 pm  Leave a Comment  

Review – Kurlander’s Hitler’s Monsters

We’ve seen a great number of books written about the influence of the occult upon the Third Reich.  Of particular interest are such works as Goodwin-Clarke’s The Occult Roots of Nazism and Staudenmeier’s Between Occultism and Nazism, which deal with the roles Ariosophy and Anthroposophy, respectively, played in Nazi Germany.  The latest offering, Hitler’s Monsters: A Supernatural History of the Third Reich, is written by Eric Kurlander of Stetson University and published by Yale University Press.

The word “supernatural” is key to understanding Kurlander’s objective.  Althoughprevious authors have attempted to deal with different aspects of Nazi occultism, Kurlander seeks to survey the influence of the “supernatural” on the Third Reich, with that term remaining largely undefined save to map it in some respects to the German idea of “border science,” which in itself seems rather vague.  This allows him to cover racial pseudo-science, astrology, dowsing, folklore, mythology, runes, werewolves, vampires, the Grail, the Tibet Expedition, Wewelsburg Castle, World Ice Theory, anti-gravity, and all sorts of other topics about which you, having read this far, probably want to learn more.  On the other hand, the specificity of his definition makes his insistence that Nazi Germany was considerably different from other countries at the time, with regard to similar beliefs, difficult to prove.

Nonetheless, this book is a fascinating work.  Kurlander is rarely able to delve into any topic at length, but what he provides is a useful survey of the scholarship on many different matters coupled with illuminating archival research.  Previous works have often emphasized the eccentric and sometimes horrible intellects who proposed many of the unusual beliefs that became part of Weimar German culture.  Kurlander does acknowledge them, but he sets out to describe specifically what Hitler, Himmler, Hess, and other prominent members of the Nazi party believed and were willing to support with the Reich’s resources.  The goal here is to establish what was of import to the leadership and what has been romanticized, although the latter is usually dealt with by omission than discussion.

Considerable debate has surrounded the Nazi leadership’s interest in the occult.  Was it the heart of their dark designs? Or were German occultists victims of an ideology that eventually turned their countrymen against them, especially after Rudolf Hess fled for Great Britain?  This is not a simple answer, Kurlander tells us.  Some beliefs were largely outside the Nazis’ ingenuity to assimilate into their system; little is said of ritual magic in this book, for instance.  Nonetheless, proponents of many of these beliefs who followed party orthodoxy – or gained the sponsorship of high-ranking members – survived and even throve in Nazi Germany, even if some elements of the government were keen on silencing them.

I feel that this review has come across as more negative than I desired.  I had hoped for a more comprehensive perspective on these issues – but if nothing else, it has convinced me that a work would have to be colossal to accomplish that task.  Hitler’s Monsters is a necessity for anyone who wishes to know the role of the supernatural in the Third Reich, and who wishes to put aside much of the dross that has accumulated on that subject.

 

 

Published in: on August 6, 2017 at 7:08 pm  Leave a Comment  

Review: Petit Albert, Ouroboros Press Edition

Ouroboros Press has released its latest work, an English language translation of the Petit Albert, the famous French grimoire and book of remedies.  As with many other Ouroboros releases, this has been put out as a small book, attractively bound in black.

As it happens, another English-language translation of this work appeared not so long ago, Hadean Press’s unfortunately-named The Spellbook of Marie Laveau, which I’ve already reviewed.  The same comments as I’ve given there may apply to the overall value of an English translation of the book.  Yet how do the two measure up?

The Ouroboros Press edition does not have much beyond a short introduction, and the Hadean Press edition does the same.  Neither work possesses an index or an extensive critical apparatus.  A question might be asked, then, as to the quality of the two.  I would not consider myself an expert at either French or translation, but I have made a few notes, based on some dictionary work, on some matters I find to be interesting.

Let’s take the formula for the Hand of Glory.   The 1752 French text from Google Books gives the ingredients to be placed with the hand as “du zimat, du salpêtre , du sel & du poivre long.”  The Ouroboros edition translates this as “vinegar, saltpeter, salt, and black pepper,” the Hadean as “some green vitriol, saltpeter, salt, and long pepper.” I can’t find “zimat,” but it does appear that “poivre long” is long pepper, which is different from black pepper.

What else? We have an experiment to make a “bâton” for travelers.  Hadean has “staff,” and Ouroboros has “stick.” (Both are technically correct, but I prefer the first.)  The elder wood for this must be picked “le lendemain de la Toussaints,” which Ouroboros renders as “the day after Halloween” and Hadean as “the day after All Saints’ Day,” which is  correct.  On the other hand, if you want the magic stones that help you to tame a horse, you’ll need to go to Mount “Sénis.” The Ouroboros edition turns this into “Cenis,” a mountain in France near the Italian border, while the Hadean transforms this into “Säntis,” a prominence in northeast Switzerland.

I’d be very interested to hear what people more proficient with French, especially those who have read more of the book than what I have examined, would have to say about these works.

Which one should you get?  It depends.  If price is a concern, the Hadean Press edition is half the price of the Ouroboros.  If you’d like a well-bound book, the Ouroboros edition is probably the best for your money.  Either one will provide an interesting collection of remedies and folk magic that should enrich anyone’s knowledge of folk magic.

Published in: on May 24, 2017 at 1:20 pm  Leave a Comment  

Review: A Compendium of Unnatural Black Magic

We’ve already discussed the Mexican publisher Enodia Press‘s previous work, their translation of the most famous Faustian grimoire, Magia naturalis et innaturalis (review). Their latest effort, A Compendium of Unnatural Black Magic – a wonderful title – was funded successfully by an Indiegogo campaign, and is now available for purchase.

The Compendium is a lovely little book, with a pretty green cover and embossed seal on the cover. At occasional points, the typesetting is not quite up to snuff.  Nonetheless, this is a huge step forward for Enodia, and it’s clear that they’re learning and adapting to raise the quality of their offerings.

Within, we have seven short, related magical texts translated from different German and Latin language sources.  Each is a brief set of instructions for summoning up spirits, including admonitions to the magician, prayers and invocations – mostly in voces magicae – and seals for the spirits.  These texts are attributed to a number of different figures – Johannes Kornreuther, Joseph Herpentil, Michael Scot, and Gertrude of Nivelles.  The original texts are included in an appendix after the translations, as is a brief comparison of some of the pseudo-Arabic text in the texts attributed to Scot. A brief set of endnotes follows.  The book bears no index, which  makes any efforts to compare elements between the texts more difficult.

I did very much like the introduction, although I think that some additional material from Stephan Bachter’s dissertation and his other works. Based on what I’ve read, it seems that the profusion of these similar manuscripts might have occurred due to a intensive market, particularly in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, aimed at providing grimoires for a market of collectors and users. It’s certainly a possibility that I’d like to see explored more.

In short, this is an excellent small collection of short magical texts in a genre – that of Faustian literature – which remains largely untranslated.  I’d suggest that grimoire collectors who can afford such a work pick it up soon, especially if they’re in the US and want to avoid any surprising international tariffs.

 

Published in: on February 6, 2017 at 1:46 pm  Comments (1)