The Book of Abramelin: A New Translation
By Abraham von Worms
Edited by Georg Dehn, translated by Steven Guth.
The Book of Abramelin, as a historical document, is rather singular. Written in an unaffected and simple prose style, it describes with intense piety an eighteen-month magickal working designed to bring the operator into contact with his “Holy Guardian Angel” and other angels of God, thereby providing numerous magickal abilities including the powers of prophecy, healing, access to hidden treasures and so on, largely by gaining control over a number of malodorous spirits. The text is supplemented by the autobiography of Abraham, the nominal author/compiler: his experiences of magickal teachers, his wanderings in the wilderness and his encounter with the Chaldæan-speaking Egyptian Jew named Abramelin – and what happened next.
This account has become the stuff of legend, and despite A.E. Waite’s curt dismissal of the book at the beginning of the 20th century, it continues to exert a profound influence at the beginning of the 21st, largely through the writings of Aleister Crowley. In this context, Georg Dehn has undoubtedly done a great service to discover, transcribe and (with the help of Steven Guth) translate the 1608 manuscript, which differs substantially – and in many crucial respects – from the S.L. Mathers translation of the gratuitously adulterated 18th century French manuscript.
Purportedly written in the 15th century by Abraham ben Simon, a Jew from Worms in modern-day Germany, the core text is not easily situated as an example of the mediæval Practical Qabalah: apart from a very superficial similarity with Rabbi Schlomo Molcho’s later use of a spiritual “maggid”, its qualities seem un-Jewish, not only because of the use of Christian demonic hierarchies but also for its liberal-mindedness in the respect that it allows anyone (Christians, pagans – even, reluctantly, women!) to use the technique. Indeed, whilst Abraham addresses the book to his second son Lamech, readers are carefully reminded of such things as that the Jews have their Sabbath on Saturday, not Sunday: suggesting that the intended audience included non-Jews. It should be borne in mind, however, that Abraham believed the document would soon pass out of an exclusively Jewish domain, so the appeal to the wider religious public is explicable, even if unusual – though presumably it factored into Gershom Scholem’s conclusion (from a derivative Hebrew translation in the Bodleian Library) that the author was a Christian.
I don’t see much to support Scholem’s view based on this new translation, but I do think that if the author was Jewish, he wasn’t a mequbbal: there is no evidence that he was familiar with contemporary Qabalah or even with Hebrew. Leaving aside the absence of explicitly Qabalistic terminology, an example of “positive ignorance” is that the list of demons includes a number of bastardized Hebrew names such as “Ama”, “Maggid” and even “Neschamah” – all of which have Qabalistic import. However, one would have to dismiss as fiction Abraham’s claimed contact with at least one mystically-inclined Rabbi (whose teaching he nevertheless rejected) in order to reach the further conclusion that he wasn’t Jewish. This is nevertheless not difficult, since many of Abraham’s statements seem incredible per se, besides having (at best) scant credibility on purely historical grounds.
For instance, Abraham lists a number of European potentates whom he claims received his magickal assistance at various points. The first of these, Emperor Sigismund, benefited from Abraham’s help in contracting his marriage, we are told. However, he married his first wife in 1385, whilst Abraham (by his own account) would have been a 26-year-old living in Mainz, studying under a Rabbi Moses, far from the Emperor’s court; and Sigismund’s second marriage (to “the Messalina of Germany”) was around 1405 or 1406, three years before Abraham himself claimed to have begun practicing his magick.
He next mentions helping to free a “Count Frederick” from the hands of a “Duke Leopold”, which is difficult to place historically. He also talks about a “Duke of Warwick”, whom he helped to free from “the English jail” the night before his scheduled execution; yet there was no Duchy of Warwick till 1445, some seven years after Abraham was (from internal evidence) writing.1However, the Duke’s father, Richard de Beauchamp, 13th Earl of Warwick, travelled through Europe on his way back from the Holy Land in 1409–10, so could perhaps have met our Abraham. Abraham also mentions helping “Antipope” John XXIII flee from the Council of Constance to avoid capture by Emperor Sigismund, which for all I know may have happened, though it flies in the face of what little I have read of that council and of Sigismund’s relationship with John. I haven’t attempted to seriously investigate any of these stories, but there seems little on the surface to support them.
It would have been interesting had Georg Dehn delved into all the above issues, but besides being a charming fellow he is also a deeply committed practitioner, and chose to focus instead on finding historical connections rather than deconstructing Abraham and his story, leading to a great deal of “confirmation bias”. In his decades-long study of the book he did find a likely candidate for the “Araki” where Abraham claimed to have met the sage Abramelin, which (as far as it goes) is interesting and even quite plausible, especially considering Dehn’s work to investigate how a Jew of the period might have been able to travel widely without having to carry bucketfuls of gold on his person. However, Dehn has been less cautious in his attempt to identify Abraham of Worms with Rabbi Jacob ben Rabbi Moses Mölln (aka R. Jacob ben Moses ha-Levi, aka the “MaHaRIL”), a famous rabbi of the period. This identification would be highly interesting, if true; but as a theory it doesn’t hold water.
First off, we are struck by the fact that these two persons had different names and different families: the MaHaRIL was named Jacob, not Abraham; his father was named Moses, not Simon; he had two wives, not one (his second wife being named “Gumchen”, whilst Abraham married a “Melcha”). Although the two may have been born at roughly the same time (1358 or 1359 for Abraham, and c.1360–65 for the MaHaRIL), the MaHaRIL was supposedly born in Mainz, whilst Abraham was apparently born in Worms (and it is not enough to say that Mainz was part of the Worms district: Abraham clearly means the town of Worms). Furthermore, the MaHaRIL died in 1427, but the Book of Abramelin was apparently written in 1438.2This is from internal evidence. Abraham said he was 20 years old when his father died on 24th December 1379, and that he was 79 when he wrote the book. The latter age becomes 96 in the French MS., which bears the (possibly also computed, but presumably erroneous) date “1458”: a date which does not appear in the earlier German manuscript.
But this is just the start. For instance, when Abraham speaks of the death of his father on 24th December 1379, and his subsequent juvenile excursion to Mainz in about 1383 where he studied under a Rabbi Moses, this again conflicts with the MaHaRIL’s early life: his father (another Rabbi Moses of Mainz) died in 1381.3We do know there were at least two Rabbis named “Moses” in Mainz at the time: one of the MaHaRIL’s contemporaries was a Rabbi Moses Katz. See Sidney Steiman, Custom and Survival: A Study of the Life and Work of Rabbi Jacob Molin (Moelln) known as the Maharil (c. 1360–1427), and his influence in establishing the Ashkenazic Minhag (customs of German Jewry) (Bloch Pub Co., 1963), p.72. And in 1387, Abraham went off on his peregrinations, but the MaHaRIL was in Mainz during this period, and is believed to have started a yeshivah and to have become the leading Rabbi of Mainz, following in his father’s footsteps. The MaHaRIL appears to have been resident in Mainz for all of his life (excluding stints in Vienna and Wiener Neustadt, not mentioned by Abraham), until a year before his death when he (coincidentally, it seems) moved to Worms, died and was buried; but Abraham was an itinerant till the first decade of the 15th century, whereafter he lived in Worms.
Again, Abraham claims to have suffered an illness for a year in Constantinople, and Dehn mentions that the MaHaRIL also suffered an illness; but in the MaHaRIL’s case, the illness lasted only a few days, and happened in Mainz. Perhaps the best evidence is that Abraham claims to have been at the Council of Constance, which the MaHaRIL supposedly also attended (though there is now some doubt about whether the MaHaRIL is actually mentioned by name in the records);4There is mention of ten Jews attending the council in Joseph Riegel, Die Teilnehmerlisten des Konstanzer Konzils (Freiburg i. Br., 1916), p.69. However, they are not named in that document. but this would be very weak evidence, at best. Likewise, the similarity between the MaHaRIL's name “מולין” (Molin) and the name “[Abra]melin” is interesting, but no more. Dehn also makes a few apparent mistakes, such as suggesting that the notariqon on the MaHaRIL’s grave reads “Melcha” (Abraham’s wife), whereas in fact Steiman notes that it is a notariqon of the MaHaRIL’s own name.5Op. cit., p.6.
Thus, the evidence connecting Abraham of Worms with the MaHaRIL is exiguous and insignificant, where it is not definitely contradictory. However, I am pleased to be able to add that the editor takes a positive attitude towards making revisions, and future editions of the book will aim to address these points.
What remains of Abraham himself is equally scanty: besides the existence of his “Araki”, Dehn quotes a record of an “Abraham the Jew” in Emperor Sigismund’s 1426 register, which notes his assistance both to Sigismund and Duke Frederick IV of Saxony: both of whom Abraham actually claims to have helped; although Abraham was writing after the event. But in this register, Abraham is noted as being a resident of Leipzig, not Worms. Is this our Abraham? I doubt it.
Nevertheless, despite a few other minor problems with the current edition of The Book of Abramelin, such as typographical errors and an unfortunate lack of information about the oil and incense recipes, it is nevertheless a highly evocative and inspirational tome. Putting to one side the rather wild claims made by the author, I am personally quite happy to believe Abraham actually had a mystical experience of the like written about by countless mystics throughout history. He has his place, even if in the “occult ghetto” of esotericism.
Whether modern magicians will be able to get anything from the book is another matter. Crucial to the practice of magick is belief, and who can seriously believe in angels these days – strongly enough, that is, to be able to suspend rational disbelief, and experience something similar to Abraham?
– Ian Rons.
16th May 2010
[Update: Two days after the publication of this review, Georg Dehn came back to me, having done some more research on the list of Jews in attendance at the Council of Constance. Intriguingly, it names an “Abraham aus Leipzig” (not the MaHaRIL, as stated in the book). This is very possibly the same Abraham of Leipzig mentioned in the 1426 register, keeping alive the possibility that Abraham of Worms may have been connected to Sigismund in the manner he claimed.]
1 However, the Duke’s father, Richard de Beauchamp, 13th Earl of Warwick, travelled through Europe on his way back from the Holy Land in 1409–10, so could perhaps have met our Abraham.
2 This is from internal evidence. Abraham said he was 20 years old when his father died on 24th December 1379, and that he was 79 when he wrote the book. The latter age becomes 96 in the French MS., which bears the (possibly also computed, but presumably erroneous) date “1458”: a date which does not appear in the earlier German manuscript.
3 We do know there were at least two Rabbis named “Moses” in Mainz at the time: one of the MaHaRIL’s contemporaries was a Rabbi Moses Katz. See Sidney Steiman, Custom and Survival: A Study of the Life and Work of Rabbi Jacob Molin (Moelln) known as the Maharil (c. 1360–1427), and his influence in establishing the Ashkenazic Minhag (customs of German Jewry) (Bloch Pub Co., 1963), p.72.
4 There is mention of ten Jews attending the council in Joseph Riegel, Die Teilnehmerlisten des Konstanzer Konzils (Freiburg i. Br., 1916), p.69. However, they are not named in that document.
5 Op. cit., p.6.