I spent the last week of May in New York City with my godfather, assisting with a new round of initiations and training in Quimbanda. After I had returned and sufficiently rested, I decided that the following Friday I would endeavor to complete my Circle for the Tuba Veneris.
The grimoire states that the Circle can be made from many different materials, from being drawn on the ground with chalk, charcoal, and paint, scratched into the dirt with a sword or staff, to painted on parchment or virgin paper. My main goal with mine was durability. I wanted to be able to roll and carry it to wherever I choose to perform the ritual, be it an abandoned building or the same forest I had buried my tools in previously. That way, I also wouldn’t have to redraw it every time I wanted to conjure the demons. On the day I poured the six wax seals, I took a large sheet of canvas and, with the help of a trusted friend, cut it to a six foot diameter circle as per the grimoire’s instructions.
The chapter also states that the inner circles can be drawn “two or three fingers in from the first”, but my hands are definitely on the smaller side so I decided to go with four inches each. With my friend’s help we painted the three rings in black. The divine Names, however, have to be written in colour (elsewhere in the grimoire the colours of Venus are given to be green and red) in the days and hours of Venus. I chose to paint them all in green, so as soon as it was the afternoon Venus hour last Friday, I sprung to work. In order to keep the spacing of the letters even so that they would actually wrap all the way around, I used the crosses that divide the names as goal posts.
I had only just finished going over each of the letters again when the Venus hour ended, so I waited for the evening one to consecrate the Circle with the incense. Finally, I folded it up and placed it with my Seal, Book, the six wax seals of the demons, and my first Horn. I’m really quite pleased with how it turned out.
With the Circle complete, I am technically finished with all the preparations for the Tuba Veneris. What remains is the second bull’s horn which I had just received in the mail shortly after I returned from my flight. A friend and witch who tends to a farm had procured for me a bull’s horn that had been severed during the day and hour of Venus and graciously sold it to me. My previous horn had been severed on a Friday, but the person who sold it to me could not say what the exact time was—only that it was shortly after noon. Given that I can be completely certain about the second Horn, I intend to wait until the next Friday new moon (which is in August) to engrave and consecrate it, just to cover all my bases. Either way, I may well eventually perform the operation with both Horns to test if the spirits manifest equally, but for now I intend to follow the advice of my spirits and be patient. There is much magical work to be done in the meanwhile.
One of the experiments I decided to perform from the Cunning Man’s Grimoire was the operation to conjure a “horrible great dragon to appeare in the ayre”. This ritual is to be performed when the Moon is in the 11th Mansion (though one of the authors of the text mentions it’s likely supposed to be the 12th due to the imagery of the that Mansion actually including a dragon) and is a fascinating example of a blending of ritual magic, folk magic and astrological image magic together into one single operation.
The ritual prescribes the creation of a small, red copper ring, with a hollow space inside that would allow one to place parchment with names of power written upon it. Unfortunately, the original text is unclear about the precise creation of the ring; if it needs to be made during an astrological election of its respective mansion, or if it is enough to simply perform the ritual during the appropriate time. One argument for the latter case is that the majority of the rings required in the Mansion rituals given in the text are hollow copper rings. This indicates perhaps that the original author of the text was only using one ring for multiple rituals, exchanging the parchments within. This is just a guess, of course, and as such one of the purposes of this experiment was also to see if the ritual works with a copper ring forged outside of the Lunar Mansion—as well as, of course, to see if it really would summon a dragon spirit in the air.
For the creation of the ring, I decided to go with a plain copper band with the names Qerminat, Baralama, Canempria, and Coriet engraved on it, instead of a hollow one with the same words on parchment inside. As for the ritual’s timing itself, I decided that to be less strict than I would require for a Talismanic one, and opted instead to have the Moon be on the Ascendant at the time of the 11th Mansion. The ceremony itself is relatively short; it simply involves a spoken prayer and a symbol to be etched on the ground using the ring.
Other additions to the experiment that were my own included bringing with me the Fifth Pentacle of Mars for protection, as well as the Scourging Rod from Magia Naturalis et Innaturalis with which I can quickly draw a circle about me in the dirt, should the spirit be malefic in nature. (This is, after all, a possibility, especially if it belongs to the 12th Mansion considering that the 12th shows a man and a dragon fighting).
I was quite excited to give this operation a try; past visions of dragons I’ve received through Sfinga in dreams have been utterly awe-inspiring, as has witnessing first-hand her Zmaj’s miraculous control over healing, destruction, and the weather. In light of the central role of Slavic zmaj lore and magic in her life, I was very eager to conjure this Lunar Mansion-derived dragon, especially as it might allow me to see a non-zmaj dragon by myself for the first time.
Post-Ritual Notes (First Attempt – 11th Mansion)
The first attempt at performing this ritual was done during the 11th Mansion. I prepared my tools and set out to a nearby dirt track along a large field. I drew the seal in the dirt and spoke the conjuration. Suddenly, I felt a surge of strength and vitality churn within me. With my spiritual sight, I saw a white serpent appear before me—on the ground, however, not in the air. Its spiritual form emerged physically in a translucent guise.
I greeted it, asking for its name, to which it first responded claimed to be Jazariel,the chief of the Tribal Spirits in the Faustian texts, and also the celestial ruler of the 13th Mansion (it is notable he also appears as a white serpent). However, after I pressed the spirit, it quickly confessed to another name instead to replace the first. I continued by inquiring as to the obtaining of wealth and also of the nature of local British dragon spirits. I did not receive satisfactory answers from him, with the conversation moving in circles for the most part. Eventually, I dismissed him, not sure what to make of the operation. That is, until I returned home and researched the second name he had given me. While I won’t mention what it was, it is safe to say that I had been had. This first spirit who appeared had likely been some sort of trickster. I found this more amusing than frustrating though, and looked forward to performing the operation again during the 12th Mansion the next day.
Post-Ritual Notes (Second attempt – 12th Mansion)
This second operation was performed while the moon was in the mid-heaven. The conjuration went well—the clouds immediately darkened from what had previously been a considerably bright and sunny day by English standards. Even the sky became dark, with the exception of the South Eastern corner along the horizon where the daytime moon sat overlooking the earth. Recognizing that, this being a Lunar Mansion experiment, the dragon would likely be related somehow to the moon, I decided to gaze at it for a little while. As I did so, clouds began to form where previously the sky had been entirely clear. They covered the moon in the shape of a claw, grabbing it as a pearl. When I took note of this, an all-white dove flew past me through the trees.
Suddenly, my spiritual sight perceived very clearly a large drake looming in the sky, its form two-headed and pure white. Like a wyvern, it had only feet and no arms. I greeted it, only to be ignored. I conjured it by the ring on my finger, by the names of my spirits, the Holy Trinity, and finally one of the names of Sfinga’s Zmaj guardian that I have been allowed to know, to which it finally paid me attention. Its demeanor, however, still seemed disinterested (after all, it is not like I had her Zmaj near me to bind it—she is back in Canada at this time!). I greeted him once more, asked for his name, and promptly received one. I inquired as to his nature, to which he replied:
“I move the wind, I shake the waves, I break ships with my tail and swallow them. I cause fleets to sink and storms to fall upon my enemies.”
It seemed that the way to get him to talk was to ask about himself! As I learned through our short conversation, he was a fairly boastful spirit—something Sfinga had told me to expect from certain kinds of dragons. Much to my delight, shortly after the ritual, I re-read the description of the 12th Lunar Mansion in various sources and saw that it has a malefic influence over ships and sea-men, confirming the spirit’s nature.
I received some advice from the spiritconcerning how to further awaken the spiritual senses and utilize their discernment. Shortly afterwards, I thanked him and he departed. I was and remain greatly pleased that the experiment was not only successful, but that I was able to confirm for myself that the 12th Mansion is the most appropriate for the conjuration of its lunar dragon. Since I have his name, I definitely plan on calling this particular spirit in future 12th Mansions to ask further questions.
Recently, I performed a conjuration of Oberon whose structure was based on three major manuscript sources. This ritual’s performance was timely, coming fresh off the back of Dan Harm’s new Llewellyn publication Of Angels, Demons & Spirits in which we find some Oberon content I plan on reviewing soon.
Oberon is a fairly well known figure in early modern British occultism, especially from the 16th Century and onwards. We see him pop up in negromantic experiments from the Folger Manuscript/Book of Oberon, the Grimoire of Arthur Gauntlet, and we even find mention of him in the publications of Robert-Cross-Smith. Rather than his appearance in numerous negromantic texts, he is better known to most people as the King of the Faeries from Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
It is unclear how much of a relationship there is between the literary Oberon (who may also be drawn from preceding folklore) and the Oberon of magical manuscripts. Oberon in our magical texts is generally ambivalent at best in character, seemingly fitting into the infernal hierarchies given how often we find him mentioned in spirit lists of infernal and demonic beings. Similarly, in the Folger Manuscript, he is bound with conjurations similar to those used for other Demonic Kings. This is in stark contrast to other operations for faery spirits, such as the one contained in E.Mus 173 (published as Of Angels, Demons & Spirits) and Faust’s Magia Naturalis et Innaturalis‘ Operation of the Pygmies—wherein a Table is set for the spirits alongside offerings of fine breads, as well as sacrifices (such as a dove torn in half). With that being said, rituals for faery spirits are not always gentle in approach, and more aggressive examples are just as common, as we see in numerous workings to call the Queen of Faeries, Sybilia.
That being said, we do find some less baleful operations of Oberon, in particular the operation in Arthur Gauntlet and also from the French text Wellcome MS 4669 (published as A Collection of Magical Secrets by Paul Harry Baron). In the case of the latter, it is even explicitly stated that no circle is required for the operation. I’ve also found a form of this ceremony in Wellcome MS.110, as you can see in the image below, and it is these three variations of the same operation that I based my own experiment on.
The ritual itself was relatively simple to perform. The method that I used diverged from the originals in some respects, though the chief elements were still present. The first step in all three variants is to draw the image of Oberon with his name and seal above his head on a silver or lead plate during the day and hour of the moon when she is waxing. You must then engrave the names and characters of the two (solar and lunar) thwarting angels of Oberon, Scorax and Carmelion, and utter a brief conjuration, bidding them to move the king and cause him to appear before you when you formally call him. I fumigated their seals and performed the conjuration of the two thwarting angels three times during the day, and once at night.
Once this is done, it is necessary to engrave the seals of Oberon’s two advisers—Kaberion, who partakes of the nature of Mars; and Severion, who partakes of the nature of Mercury—in their respective planetary day and hour. The conjuration for these spirits is relatively brief. The purpose is to bind them as you draw their seal, so that they will advise and council their lord Oberon to appear before you when you perform his own conjuration. These incantations are similarly carried out three times each day and once at night as was done before with the angels.
Each time I fumigated Kaberion, I felt a powerful, hot, and aggressive sensation stirring within me. Severion felt less intense in comparison, which I think is understandable given that Kaberion’s nature is Martial. Throughout these conjurations and their accompanying flashes of the spirits’ natures, I came to suspect that Kaberion is perhaps the military adviser of Oberon, his general and commander, whilst Severion acts more as a chancellor or diplomatic adviser.
Finally, the day of the operation came; or so I thought. Pre-ritual consultation with my own spirits indicated that it would be better to perform the operation on a Friday—the day of Venus—as it would be during this time that the King would be more amicable to work with. As such, I waited until the next available Friday to begin the conjuration.
I began the ritual with the standard lighting of candles and fumigations, consecrating them in the manner I am accustomed. I followed this up by calling on my personal spirits to assist me; in particular, my own Good Angel. I then placed my hand over a Pleiades talisman I had elected and consecrated, which is said to draw demons, spirits, and the dead to the conjurer—and also to improve the light in the eyes. I charged the talisman to draw Oberon to me, and then finally I began the ritual proper. I spoke the conjuration I had prepared over the figure of the spirit with its seals, appealing to Oberon, his thwarting angels, and his two councilors that he would appear before me within the crystal. While I was not using a circle, I had prepared a number of Solomonic Pentacles, a consecrated Orthodox cross (gifted to me by Sfinga), my scourging rod, and other protective items in case the spirit became hostile towards me (such an occurrence was recounted in a Robert-Cross-Smith publication, the astrologer of the 19th Century). As the conjuration proceeded, I felt a powerful and intimidating presence fill the room. I could feel an intense spiritual force emanating from the crystal sphere as he arrived, filling the air through the medium of the incense. I greeted him with the following:
“Hail, O King! I greet you with an offering of incense befitting your rulership. I have called you here today by means of your angels and the words of your advisers, that I may make my compact with you and be familiar with you. May you make yourself visible!”
Following this, the overwhelming sensation of intimidation and dread softened (while still lingering in a lesser form), and the spirit finally physically appeared within the shewstone. I asked him various questions, made certain agreements, and successfully obtained a familiar from within his court. This was a spirit who could act as an intermediary between myself and the faery spirits, while also possessing various other powers I had specifically requested. After obtaining his name and seal, I inquired if there were any other protocols I should abide by in order to call forth the spirit, and one requirement was given: that I must be standing on the earth with bare feet when I conjure him.
Once I finished with my petitions and requests, it was time to seal the compact. The way this was done was quite interesting, as the spirit beckoned to his seal and indicated I should “shake his hand” by placing my own over it. Upon doing so, I gave the license to depart and bade the spirits farewell, pleased with their manifestations. The day after the agreement was made, I checked on the figure of Oberon which I had prepared and saw that it had acquired a waxy, physical signature beneath it.
My work with the Tuba Veneris continues to unravel in interesting ways. A few days ago, a friend who recently became aware that I was pursuing the operation messaged me, saying that he could procure for me a bull’s horn that fits the requirements of the grimoire exactly. Ecstatic, I agreed, and it should be in my hands within a few weeks. This will give me an opportunity to test how well the spirits manifest physically in different rituals. Before I engrave, consecrate, and bury it, I intend to once more bathe it in the seven Venusian herbs my Zmaj had recommended to stir the bull spirit, especially as it had such a potent effect with the last horn. The next Friday new moon is in late August, so that is when I will be consecrating it. I will likely attempt the full operation before then once the Circle is complete, and then try again with the new horn in September.
With that said, my next order of business was to create the six seals of the spirits. To borrow Teresa Burns and Nancy Turner’s translation, the grimoire states:
One takes green Wax, to which one mixes soot, makes from this round pieces and, with steel instruments, cuts into them the Seal of that Spirit one wishes to invoke. Let these Seals be consecrated with smoke in the same way as the others aforementioned in the time, by the day and in the hour of Venus, but do not bury them: rather, preserve them for the Work.
– “How to Make the Seals of the Spirits”
As we can see, the consecration with smoke has to be carried out in the usual times of Venus, but there is no such recommendation for the actual construction of their physical forms. I decided I would make and carve them in the day and hour of Venus anyway, especially since I had the time. I filled a spare can with green candles and soot, placing it within a larger pot of water to double boil on the stove. As I waited for them to melt in the Venus hour, I set up my silicone molds in which I would pour the wax. Once the candles had turned into a dark green liquid, I fished out the wicks with a plastic fork and retrieved the can, carefully pouring the wax into the silicone. They fully dried and hardened in the Venus hour as well, and I gently carved them with a tiny steel pin.
I made sure that the seals would be on the thicker side, especially as the method by which the demons may be compelled if they are unruly involves stamping them with the heated copper Seal of Venus. They were consecrated at night in the Venus hour and are now waiting with the rest of my tools for their eventual use.
Since I will be consecrating the second horn on the next new moon, my next immediate goal with the Tuba Veneris is to construct the final piece of the ritual: the Circle. I have procured a large canvas cloth which I have already trimmed into a six foot diameter circle. On one of the following Fridays, I will paint the inner circles in black and write out the sacred names in green.
In my first post, I gave a brief overview of the Libellus Veneri Nigro Sacer or Tuba Veneris, outlining my intentions to pursue the grimoire’s operation faithfully. This third of May was not only a Friday, but also fell within the range of the new moon; the combination specified for the consecration of the Seal of Venus, the Horn of Venus, and the Book of Venus. Needless to say, I was greatly looking forward to finally embarking on creating these three important instruments for the conjuration of the spirits.
I had previously acquired a brand new leather journal and two new inks (one black and one dove’s blood) to fashion my own “Consecrated Book of the Black Venus”. The Book must be written with the feather of a dove, which can be quite challenging as dove feathers tend to be so short. I made a very simple offering to the local land spirits the Friday before requesting to find a dove feather as I walked, and came across a longer one within half an hour. Satisfied, I took it home and cut it into a makeshift quill. Over the course of the Venus hours, I copied down the Tuba Veneris, including the additional titles in my red dove’s blood. For the first page, I reproduced a likeness of the female Venus standing with her own Horn and Seal, crowned with her symbol over her head. Despite the small feather, I did my best to keep my writing uniform and neat, and I am pleased to say that I’m quite happy with the end result now that it is complete. The rest of the pages will be used for writing down what the six spirits teach me, both about themselves and whatever I question them about in general, as well as the secret signs, hand gestures, and proof of our pacts they produce.
For the Seal of Venus, I cut a hexagram out of copper in the Venus hour using newly purchased tin snips. The grimoire instructs the magician to wear the seal around their neck during the evocation, so I drilled a very small hole into one of the vertices so that a copper jump ring may be affixed along with a chain. Engraving the characters came easily, especially as I’ve already had practice carving various gemstones and metals in the creation of astrological Picatrix talismans (whose elections Salt has been very adept at finding). I passed it through the smoke of verbena, myrtle, and musk and wrapped it in linen before heading to work on the Horn.
I went through great lengths to ensure that the Horn met the specifications laid out in the grimoire. Under the guidance of my Zmaj—my primary guardian and tutelary spirit—I went through a few extra steps in preparing the bull’s horn for the consecration. One of these included another wash in a bath made up of seven Venusian herbs, each prayed over in the Venus hour, in order to further stir the spirit of the bull within it. When I retrieved it from the water, the energetic change noted was immediate. I rinsed it with water and scrubbed any last bits of dirt, blood, and grime out with a toothbrush, and then similarly engraved it in the nighttime Venus hour on the Friday new moon. The engravings appear a little faint when photographed due to the hardness and colouration of the horn, but they can be easily seen in person and I’m very happy with how evenly spaced they ended up being, especially for the seals of the six demons.
Finally, after having passed the Horn through the smoke, I wrapped it in linen and moved on to consecrate the Book. Once baptized and prayed over, I suffumigated it and covered it in green cloth as per the grimoire’s instructions. Since time was of the essence, I made sure that I was already dressed to go outside while preparing the instruments. I’m quite fortunate in that I live a ten minute walk away from a large forest, so it didn’t take long to carry the three instruments inside, locate the nearest stream, and bury them right underneath the bridge which crossed it.
While the process may seem straightforward when written out, the whole day ended up being fraught with omens. Though I didn’t set an alarm for it, I woke up exactly at sunrise when the first Venus hour of the day began. I took the opportunity to pray and then returned to sleep. I would then wake six more times, each after a short but intense, highly-charged dream full of chthonic journeying and magical conflict. I won’t speculate on the natures of these dreams too much, especially as I’ll hopefully be able to confront the six demons of the Tuba Veneris face-to-face in the coming months, but needless to say I was quite taken by the visions. I found that I was physically exhausted upon waking, far more so than I recall being in a long time. The dreams felt like a peculiar combination of test and augury.
Later, as soon as I ascended up the path which led into the forest and its creek, having just buried the instruments, I was suddenly overcome with the exact opposite sensation from how I felt in the morning. Instead of tired, I experienced a prolonged feeling of ecstasy, marked by a surge of power and authority that accompanied me all the way home. I didn’t know quite what to make of it at the time—it was certainly unexpected given that the consecration of the instruments wasn’t even technically complete—but it was definitely empowering. It’s difficult to put precisely into words, but I couldn’t shake the visceral feeling of something “clicking”; that the procedures had been carried out correctly, and that the authority of Anael was being installed into my sphere through the carrying out of these rites. I cross-checked my intuition with divination and then returned to bed, sleeping peacefully in anticipation of their retrieval.
The next day, in the nighttime Venus hour, I returned once more under the cover of darkness to collect my tools. They now sit in my temple space next to the incense blend, inks, and dove’s quill, awaiting future use as I move on to prepare the seals of the demons and the circle itself.
“She is VENUS on High, a name given to me by the Stars. Soon to be a Stygian sojourner, she appears when the HORN sounds. The subjugated Dæmon groans under the strength of the SIGN. Well done! As the victor, infused with glory, you return from the enemy.”
I’ve been fascinated with the Consecrated Little Book of Black Venus ever since I first came across it, but my interest shifted from a merely scholarly appreciation to a sorcerous desire to work it only recently. A confluence of events over the past several months continued to surface it to my attention. The first instance was during a conjuration of the archangel Anael using Trithemius’ Drawing Spirits into Crystals, in which the text was directly cited during my questioning of the spirit. Though I had not mentioned this experience to Salt, I later found out that he had been transcribing me a copy of the Libellus, or Tuba Veneris during Venus hours as a gift for when I last visited him in England.
Upon my return Toronto, I immediately set myself to work planning how I would undertake the operation. As a part of this blog, I intend to chronicle my journey with the Tuba Veneris in its various stages, focusing primarily on the preparation of the tools necessary for the ritual and then, if the operation is successful, providing further insights where possible given the necessary secrecy involved with all spirit conjuration.
Let us begin with the book itself. A short text, written by its own account in 1580, its authorship is attributed to John Dee; though there are many reasons to doubt this. The writing itself does not resemble any of his works, it does not contain his enduring Christian and scholastic undertones, its methodology is unlike that of his other magic, and its dating and place of writing do not align with Dee’s own diaries of where he was. Similarly, he never references the text at any point in the future. At the same time, its dating does place it within his lifetime, and especially during the years in which he was not so famous or remarkable as to warrant pseudepigraphal attribution in the manner of Solomon, Cyprian, or Faust. While Dee’s authorship of the text is neither conclusively proven nor disproven, the ambiguities are significant enough that the Tuba Veneris‘ author is usually referred to as Pseudo-Dee.
The grimoire details how to summon six demons ruled by the planet Venus, also referred to as Anael. Unlike grimoires like the Goetia, these spirits are not distinguished by their particular talents, abilities, and offices, rather they are addressed as a single unit who can accomplish a wide variety of tasks. Examples given include finding hidden treasures, navigating, trade, war. The reader is reminded that “practice and experience will teach a lot”, encouraging one to test the demons. Its magic, unlike Dee’s angelic practices, is “nigromantic” in the sense that it deals with the forceful compelling and binding of the demons. The names of the spirits are: Mogarip, Amabosar, Alkyzub, Belzazel, Falkaroth, and Mephgazub—and their seals, as noted by Teresa Burns, to a certain degree share elements of the Olympic spirits from the Arbatel.
Before one may undertake the operation, five main tools must first be constructed. These are:
The Seal of Venus
The Horn of Venus
The Magical Circle
The Book of Venus
The Seals of the Spirits
The Seal is inscribed with virgin steel instruments on a double-sided copper hexagram during the day and hour of Venus on the new moon, after sundown. It is consecrated with the smoke of verbena, myrtle, and musk, and is then wrapped in linen and buried in the same hours next to a flowing body of water, from which it is recovered on the following night in the Venus hour.
The famous “Tuba Veneris” or Horn of Venus is made from the horn of a living bull, removed during the day and hour of Venus, which is then purified in Vitriol dissolved in vinegar. Once it is washed, the characters given are inscribed using the same steel instruments during the same times, consecrated in the same smoke, and then buried together with the Seal and recovered in the same fashion. The conjuration itself during the evocation of the demons is spoken entirely through the Horn.
A circle which protects the magician is also created during the hours of Venus. The exact materials can vary, with the text suggesting drawing it with a sword or staff in dirt, with a chalk on the floor, or with ink on parchment. I would prefer mine to be fairly durable, so I am likely going to be using a thicker cloth or canvas that can be rolled and stored away when not in use. This is especially as the text instructs to conjure the spirits in a “Safe place free from all human disturbances, either in a building, or better in a Forest or at an isolated and deserted crossroads”. I plan on performing the operation at a dirt crossroads in a forest whose land spirits I have been offering to for some time. The circle is also smoked in the incense and then stored away. It, along with the seals, are the only tools not buried.
The seals of the six demons are made in green wax, similarly consecrated in the smoke though not buried. In the operation, if the demon refuses to cooperate, the magician is told to heat the Seal of Venus (which you are normally wearing over your breast) in the coals of the censer or a candle and then place it over the wax seal so that it melts; this pains the spirit who will beg mercy and relent. Again, these are not buried, rather preserved until the summonings.
Lastly, the Book itself is created. Made from parchment, the text is reproduced (with a few modifications given in the instructions), and is christened the proper “Little Consecrated Book of the Black Venus”. The book is written with a dove feather and virgin ink, again only in the hours of Venus, and then consecrated with smoke, baptized in Vitriol water, and prayed over through the authority of Anael. It is finally wrapped in a green or red cloth and buried with the Seal and Horn in the same way.
Currently, my Book is completed though not yet consecrated. I plan on engraving and fully consecrating the Seal of Venus this coming new moon at a minimum; if I manage to do the same for the Horn, then I will bury them together by a nearby stream as per the text’s instructions.
Teresa Burns and Nancy Turner’s translation of the Tuba Veneris can be found at the following Journal of the Western Mystery Tradition page: [link]. The images in this post were sourced from Jeffrey S. Kupperman’s recreations also published in the same translation.