Rank: Duke · Legions: 36 · Element: Fire · Direction: East · Enn: Typan efna Alloces paryn
Alloces, written also Alocer, Alocas, and Alloien, is the fifty-second spirit of the Ars Goetia, a Duke great, mighty, and strong, who governs thirty-six legions of spirits. He appears in the form of a soldier riding upon a great horse, his face like that of a lion, very red and having flaming eyes, and his speech hoarse and very big. His office is to teach the art of astronomy and all the liberal sciences, and he brings good familiars. The whole interest of Alloces lies in a paradox written into him, for he is at once the most martial figure in the entire book and a teacher of its most peaceful and contemplative arts. Nothing about his shape suggests the scholar: he is a soldier on a warhorse, red-faced as a lion, flaming-eyed, thundering-voiced, every inch the warrior. And yet his gift is not war but the stars — astronomy and the liberal sciences, the high and serene studies of the ordered heavens and the trained mind. Alloces is the warrior-scholar, the soldier who teaches the stars, and in that union of the fierce and the learned lies his whole teaching: that real mastery of a science is not a soft or passive thing but demands the fire, the discipline, and the endurance of a warrior. He is the martial spirit of learning, the soldier's fire turned upward from the battlefield to the heavens.
He is Alloces in many modern books, and Alocer, Alocas, or Alloien in others. He appears in Johann Weyer's Pseudomonarchia Daemonum of 1577, passed into the Ars Goetia as it was gathered into the Lemegeton in the seventeenth century, and was set into modern English by Samuel Liddell MacGregor Mathers and Aleister Crowley in their 1904 edition. The texts agree on his particulars: the soldier on the great horse, the red lion-face and flaming eyes, the big hoarse voice, the teaching of astronomy and the liberal sciences, the good familiars — the Duke of thirty-six legions.
Alloces comes in the shape of a soldier, and the grimoire piles the imagery of war and fierceness upon him. He rides a great horse — a warhorse, the mount of the mounted warrior. His face is like a lion's, the beast of martial courage and kingly ferocity, and it is very red, ruddy and inflamed as with the heat of battle or the fire of his own nature. His eyes flame. His voice is hoarse and very big, a great booming sound that fills the space and commands it, the voice of one used to being heard across a field of war. Every detail is martial: this is a fighter, a figure of force and fire and command, and he does not soften his aspect for the scholar who calls him. To meet Alloces is to meet a warrior in full, and the fierceness is real — but it is not, as the next thing about him reveals, turned to the purpose one would expect.
Here is the paradox that is the heart of him: this soldier, this red-faced flaming-eyed warrior on his great horse, teaches astronomy and the liberal sciences. His office is not war. It is the contemplation of the heavens and the training of the mind — the most serene and elevated of studies, set in the fiercest of forms. The contradiction is only apparent, and in seeing through it lies his gift. For the truth Alloces embodies is that the mastery of a hard science is itself a kind of war, and demands a warrior's qualities. It is not won by the soft and the idle but by discipline, by endurance, by the sustained and unrelenting fire of one who will not give up the field. The scholar who would truly master the stars needs the soldier's dedication, the soldier's willingness to labour long and hard, the soldier's refusal to retreat before difficulty. Alloces is the union of the two: the fire of the warrior wed to the study of the sage, the martial gaze lifted from the battlefield to the heavens. He teaches that learning, done greatly, is not the opposite of fighting but a fight of its own kind — and that the same fire that makes a soldier can make a master.
The substance of his teaching is astronomy — the science of the heavens, the disciplined study of the stars and planets in their ordered courses — and all the liberal sciences besides, the full curriculum of the trained mind. There is a fine rightness in a warrior teaching the stars, for the soldier of old steered by them, marched and kept watch beneath them, and knew the night sky as few others did; the one who looks up from the field of war looks up at the constellations. Alloces lifts that gaze and makes a study of it. And he teaches not gently but thoroughly and hard, with a warrior's rigour, driving the student toward real command of the science rather than a pleasant acquaintance with it. From him one learns the heavens, and the liberal arts, as a discipline to be mastered by dedication — the fire of the soldier poured into the labour of the scholar.
Alloces speaks with a voice hoarse and very big — loud, commanding, filling the room. It is the voice of the field-commander, the one pitched to be heard over the noise of many and to be obeyed, and it belongs to his martial nature. But it serves his teaching too, for the great teacher, like the great commander, must command attention, must be heard clearly and carry authority in the saying. His big voice is the voice of one who expects to be listened to and learned from, and the student who works with him should be ready for a teacher who does not murmur but declares.
Alloces also brings good familiars — helpful attendant spirits, faithful and serviceable, as several of his fellows give. It is a benevolent note in a fierce spirit, and a fitting one for a teacher, for the good familiar is a companion and an aid in the long labour of study, a helper for the disciplined work he sets. That the fierce soldier gives good and faithful company is of a piece with the paradox of him: the warrior who serves the scholar's ends.
Alloces is placed in the element of Fire and the quarter of the East — Fire for the red inflamed face, the flaming eyes, the burning martial nature. For the planetary correspondence this Vault reads him, unmistakably, under Mars. He is a soldier upon a warhorse, red-faced and fierce and loud, and Mars is the planet of the soldier, of war, of the warhorse and the red inflamed face and the martial fire; no spirit in the whole book wears Mars more plainly upon his form. The interesting thing is that his office — astronomy and the liberal sciences — might on its own be read as Mercurial or Jovian, the province of the scholar and the teacher; but his nature is Mars's own, and the reading of him is precisely that the martial fire is turned to the study of the stars. He is Mars the warrior become Mars the disciplined master, the same fire that drives the soldier driving the scholar. Set his metal as iron, his day as Tuesday, and his colours the war-red of his lion-face and the iron of his arms. These correspondences are read as symbolic rather than handed down as documented tradition; the grimoires give only his element, his form, and his offices, and the martial reading follows plainly from the soldier, the warhorse, and the flaming red face at the heart of them.
In the old demonology Alloces is a well-regarded spirit, noted for the striking contrast of his fierce soldier's form and his peaceful scholarly office, and treated as a genuine and thorough teacher of the sciences. Weyer and the Ars Goetia give the same account — the soldier on the great horse, the red lion-face and flaming eyes, the big voice, the astronomy and liberal sciences, the good familiars — and later commentators have often remarked, as this Vault does, on the paradox of the warlike teacher of serene studies. He is a spirit respected for the rigour of his teaching and the fierce dedication he both embodies and instils.
Carried into the modern revival through the 1904 Mathers and Crowley edition, Alloces is worked today chiefly by students of astronomy, of the sciences, and of disciplined study of any kind, who want a teacher with fire in him. Modern practitioners tend to prize exactly his paradox — a spirit who brings a warrior's dedication to the pursuit of knowledge and instils that same fierce discipline in the student. His good familiars are valued as aids in long study. He remains a fierce and thorough Duke, sought by those who understand that mastery is won like a war, by fire and discipline and refusal to retreat.
Alloces is fierce, disciplined, and paradoxical — the soldier who teaches the stars, the warrior whose fire is turned not to war but to the mastery of the sciences. He comes red-faced and flaming-eyed and thunder-voiced, every inch the fighter, and gives the serene high studies of the heavens and the trained mind, taught with a soldier's rigour and won by a soldier's dedication. He embodies and instils the truth that great learning demands the fire of a warrior. Met with a genuine willingness to bring that fire — to study as hard as a soldier fights, to labour long and refuse to retreat before the difficulty of a science — he is among the most bracing and rewarding teachers in the whole book, for the warrior-scholar gives what the gentle tutor cannot: the fierce discipline by which a science is truly mastered.
The grimoires give Alloces a thoroughly martial form: a soldier riding upon a great warhorse, his face like that of a lion -- very red, ruddy and inflamed -- with eyes that flame, and a voice hoarse and very big, loud enough to fill and command a room. Every detail is of war and fire: the warhorse, the lion's courage, the red inflamed face, the burning eyes, the booming field-commander's voice. He does not soften his fierce aspect for the scholar who calls him, and to meet him is to meet a warrior in full. Those who work with him describe a powerful, fiery, commanding presence, loud and forceful and demanding -- and, to the student ready to bring their own fire, a bracing and galvanising one, the felt presence of a fierce master who drives the mind as a commander drives a charge.
Enn: Typan efna Alloces paryn
Working with Alloces is studying under the warrior-scholar of the Goetia -- a fierce soldier on a great horse, red-faced and flaming-eyed and thunder-voiced, whose gift is not war but the mastery of astronomy and the liberal sciences. His teaching is the union of the martial and the learned: he teaches the high studies with a warrior's rigour, and demands a warrior's dedication in return. This Vault comes to him to study hard -- to bring fire and discipline to the pursuit of a science, and to be driven toward real mastery rather than gentle acquaintance. What follows is a guide built around that fire.
Come to Alloces prepared for a fierce and commanding presence, and prepared to work, for he is a soldier as much as a teacher and answers dedication far better than idleness. Cleanse yourself and the space, and set his seal at the centre of the working. Where the correspondences are followed, the martial suits him: war-red and iron, the metal iron, the hours of Mars and of Tuesday. Be honest with yourself about whether you truly mean to labour at the science you bring him, for he drives the dedicated student hard and has little for the one who wants learning without effort. Then open the way by reciting his Enn -- Typan efna Alloces paryn -- steadily until a powerful, fiery, commanding presence gathers, and meet his fierce soldier's form without being cowed, for the fierceness is the fire he means to light in you.
The heart of working with Alloces is the willingness to study as hard as a soldier fights. Do not come to him for an easy or pleasant acquaintance with a subject; come to master it, and to be driven toward that mastery with a warrior's rigour. Understand his central teaching and take it to heart: that the mastery of a hard science demands discipline, endurance, and the refusal to retreat before difficulty -- the very qualities of a soldier. Bring that fire to your study, and let him fan it. The student who labours long, who returns to the difficult thing again and again, who will not give up the field, is the one he makes into a master.
For his teaching, bring the science you would master -- astronomy above all, or any of the liberal sciences -- and ask to be trained in it thoroughly and hard. Expect not a gentle tutorial but a driving: the fierce, rigorous, demanding instruction of a commander. For astronomy especially, take up the soldier's old kinship with the stars -- study the heavens as the one who marched and kept watch beneath them, learning the ordered courses of the night sky as a discipline to be commanded. Take what he teaches as the beginning of a long and hard-won mastery, and do the disciplined labour between the workings, for he teaches those who fight for the knowledge.
Alloces brings good familiars, and for the long labour of study they are a fitting aid: faithful attendant spirits to accompany and assist the disciplined work he sets. Ask him, if you wish, for a good familiar to aid your studies, and treat the companionship with the respect and care that any true working relationship with a spirit deserves. The good familiar is a helper in the fight, not a shortcut around it.
Practitioners describe Alloces's presence as powerful, fiery, and commanding, loud and galvanising rather than gentle, often felt as a surge of energy and drive toward the work. When he has heard, his help tends to arrive as a kindling -- a new fire and discipline in your study, an endurance to labour longer and harder at the science, a difficult thing beginning to yield under sustained assault. Look for the strengthening of your dedication and the deepening of your command of the subject, not for an easy sudden knowing. Keep a written record of your study and its progress, for his gift is measured in mastery hard-won over time.
Work with Alloces in the spirit of his own fire: come to labour, and be ready to be driven. Do not seek easy learning from him -- he has none to give, and the seeker who wants knowledge without effort should not call the soldier. Turn the martial fire he lights toward your study and your discipline, not toward actual aggression or contention with others; his war is the war of mastery, waged upon the difficulty of a science and not upon any person. Take his teaching as a long campaign and do the hard labour it requires. He is a fierce and thorough Duke, the warrior-scholar of the whole book, and to the student willing to study as hard as a soldier fights, he gives what no gentle teacher can -- the fierce discipline by which a science is truly and lastingly mastered.