Rank: Marquis · Legions: 20 · Element: Air · Direction: North · Enn: Ayer avage secore Cimejes
Cimejes, written also Cimeies, Cimeries, and Kimaris, is the sixty-sixth spirit of the Ars Goetia, a Marquis mighty, great, strong, and powerful, who governs twenty legions of spirits and rules, the grimoire says, over all the spirits in the parts of Africa. He appears in the form of a valiant warrior riding upon a goodly black horse. His office is to teach perfectly grammar, logic, and rhetoric, and to discover things lost or hidden, and treasures; and by some accounts he makes those who work with him swift as the wind. The heart of him is the three arts he teaches, for grammar, logic, and rhetoric are together the trivium — the three classical arts of language and reason, the first and foundational division of the seven liberal arts, the three roads that meet at the beginning of all learning. Grammar is the right structure of language; logic is the right structure of thought; rhetoric is the right and persuasive expression of both. Together they are the complete command of the word — how to speak correctly, reason soundly, and persuade well — the foundation on which every other learning is raised. Cimejes is the master of that foundation, the teacher of the trivium; and he teaches it not as a mild schoolman but as a valiant warrior, sword and word alike at his command. He is the warrior of the word, the master of language and reason wielded with a fighter's authority.
He is Cimejes, Cimeies, or Cimeries in some books, and Kimaris 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 valiant warrior on the black horse, the rule over the spirits of Africa, the perfect teaching of grammar, logic, and rhetoric, and the discovery of things lost, hidden, and treasured — the mighty Marquis of twenty legions.
Cimejes comes as a valiant warrior, mounted upon a goodly black horse, and the martial form is worth marking against the gentleness of his office. He is not a schoolmaster in a gown but a fighter in the saddle, mighty and strong, a figure of valour and command. The black horse is a mount of strength and of swiftness — and swiftness belongs to him, for the tradition that he makes his people swift as the wind suits the warrior on the fast dark horse. That so martial a spirit should be the teacher of the arts of language and reason is the key to his character: he brings a warrior's command and a warrior's discipline to the mastery of the word. His grammar, his logic, his rhetoric are not the timid exercises of the classroom but arts held and wielded with the confidence of one who rides to the field — the word commanded as a warrior commands his weapons.
The centre of Cimejes is the trivium, and it deserves to be understood as the whole and ancient thing it is. Grammar, logic, and rhetoric were, for the entire classical and medieval world, the foundation of all education — the three arts a mind must master before any other learning, the "three roads" (tri-via) that meet at the entrance of knowledge. Each is an art of the word and of reason. Grammar is the right structure of language: the correct forms, the true meanings, the sound construction of speech and writing, the mastery of the tongue itself. Logic, or dialectic, is the right structure of thought: the valid steps of reasoning, the sound argument, the mind that follows a truth without a false move and detects the flaw in a false one. And rhetoric is the right and moving expression of both: the art of saying a thing well, persuasively, and to effect, of carrying an argument into another mind and moving it. Master all three and you command the word entirely — you speak correctly, reason soundly, and persuade well — and every further learning stands upon that command. Cimejes teaches all three perfectly. He is the master of the foundation, the giver of the complete command of language and reason.
Set the warrior and the trivium together and Cimejes stands revealed as the warrior of the word — the master of language and reason wielded with a fighter's authority. There is a deep rightness in the pairing, for the arts of the word have always had a martial edge. Rhetoric is, in its highest form, a kind of noble combat: the contest of persuasion, the argument won or lost, the word that carries the field as a charge carries a wall. Logic is the sword of the mind, the blade that cuts the sound argument from the false, that no evasion can turn aside. And to command language and reason with a warrior's confidence — to speak and argue not timidly but with valour, holding one's ground and pressing one's point — is a real and hard-won power. Cimejes teaches exactly this: not merely to know the arts of the word but to wield them with command. And this Vault marks the same ethic here that it marks for every teacher of rhetoric and logic: these are weapons of the word, and weapons may serve truth or deceit. Wield Cimejes's logic to find and hold the truth, not to build clever traps; wield his rhetoric to carry the truth into other minds, not to make the false seem fair. The warrior of the word is honourable, or he is only a skilled liar with a sword.
Cimejes discovers, besides, things lost or hidden, and treasures. He is a finder — of what is mislaid, of what is concealed, of the hoard buried out of sight. It is the more practical of his offices, and it stands among the Goetia's several treasure-finders and revealers of the hidden. Read inwardly, as this Vault reads such gifts, the lost thing he recovers may be something of one's own that was mislaid or forgotten — a lost skill, a buried memory, an abandoned purpose — and the hidden treasure the worth in oneself or one's life that lies concealed and unclaimed. The master of the word, who commands what is spoken and reasoned, is fittingly also a finder of what is lost to sight.
The grimoire gives Cimejes a curious and particular dominion: he rules over all the spirits in the parts of Africa. It is one of the few such specific geographic charges in the whole book, and it marks him as a spirit of great authority and reach — not merely a teacher and a finder but a ruler, a marquis with a wide territory of his own. The detail is little explained and much wondered at, and this Vault passes it on as it stands: a mark of the breadth of his command, one more sign that beneath the teacher of the word is a mighty and governing spirit.
Cimejes is placed in the element of Air and the quarter of the North — Air for the word and the reason and the swiftness that are his nature, the airy element of speech and of the quick mind. For the planetary correspondence this Vault reads him under Mercury, and of all the seventy-two he is among the very few for whom Mercury is simply inescapable. For the trivium — grammar, logic, and rhetoric, the arts of language, reason, and eloquence — is Mercury's own domain entire; Mercury, the god Hermes, is the lord of speech and of writing, of the herald's eloquence and the orator's persuasion, of the reasoning mind and the swift and cunning tongue. There is no more Mercurial office in the whole book than the teaching of the three arts of the word. And his swiftness, the wind-swift speed of the tradition, is Mercury's own, the winged sandals of the flying messenger; and Air is Mercury's element. The valiant warrior on the black horse might, by his form, sound a martial note, and a practitioner who felt a touch of Mars in his valour would not be wrong; but his offices are pure Mercury, the arts of the word and the swiftness of the messenger. Where Vapula wears Mercury as the artisan-sage, the skilled hand joined to the knowing mind, Cimejes wears it as the orator-herald, the warrior of eloquence and reason. Set his metal as quicksilver, his day as Wednesday, and his colours the black of his goodly horse and the quicksilver of his planet. 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 Mercurial reading follows unmistakably from the language, the reason, and the swiftness at the heart of them.
In the old demonology Cimejes is a well-regarded spirit, valued for his perfect teaching of the foundational arts of the word and noted for his valiant warrior-form and his wide rule over the spirits of Africa. Weyer and the Ars Goetia give the same account — the black horse, the African dominion, the grammar and logic and rhetoric, the finding of the lost and the treasured. Commentators have remarked on the pairing of the martial form with the scholarly office, and on the aptness of a mighty marquis to the command of the trivium, the foundation on which all higher learning is built. He is a Marquis regarded with respect, a warrior and a teacher of the word in one.
Carried into the modern revival through the 1904 Mathers and Crowley edition, Cimejes is worked today chiefly by students and workers of language, reason, and eloquence — writers, speakers, debaters, and all who would command the word — and by those seeking to recover what is lost or find what is hidden. Modern practitioners prize his teaching of the trivium as the foundation it has always been, read his warrior-form as the confidence and command to wield the word well, and value his finder's office both literally and as the recovery of what is lost in oneself. He remains a valiant and eloquent Marquis, sought for the mastery of language and reason.
Cimejes is valiant, eloquent, and commanding — the warrior on the black horse and master of the trivium, who teaches perfectly the three arts of the word: to speak correctly, to reason soundly, and to persuade well. He wields language and reason with a fighter's authority, finds what is lost and hidden and treasured, and rules a wide dominion of his own. He is the warrior of the word, the union of the martial and the eloquent, the teacher of the foundation on which all learning stands. Met with a genuine wish to command the word rightly — to master language and reason, and to wield them for the truth rather than the lie — he is among the most valuable and bracing of all the spirits of the Goetia, the valiant teacher of the arts on which the mind is built.
The grimoires give Cimejes a martial form: a valiant warrior -- mighty, great, and strong -- riding upon a goodly black horse. He is a figure of valour and command, a fighter in the saddle rather than a schoolman in a gown, and the black horse is a mount of strength and swiftness fitting the tradition that he makes his people swift as the wind. Those who work with him describe a bold, confident, commanding presence, valiant and vigorous, joined to a marked clarity and eloquence of mind -- the felt sense of a spirit who wields the word as a warrior wields a weapon, with command and without timidity. It is among the more bracing and confidence-lending manifestations in the book, the bearing of a warrior who is also a master of language and reason, sword and word held with equal authority.
Enn: Ayer avage secore Cimejes
Working with Cimejes is working with the warrior of the word -- the valiant Marquis on the black horse who teaches perfectly the trivium of grammar, logic, and rhetoric, the three foundational arts of language and reason, and who wields the word with a fighter's command. His gift is the complete mastery of the word: to speak correctly, reason soundly, and persuade well, and to do so with valour rather than timidity. This Vault comes to him to command language and reason rightly -- and to wield them for the truth. What follows is a guide built around that command.
Come to Cimejes with confidence and a genuine wish to master the word, for he is a valiant and commanding spirit and answers boldness rather than timidity. Cleanse yourself and the space, and set his seal at the centre of the working. Where the correspondences are followed, the Mercurial suits him: the black of his horse and the quicksilver of his planet, the metal quicksilver, the hours of Mercury and of Wednesday. Then open the way by reciting his Enn -- Ayer avage secore Cimejes -- steadily until a bold, confident, commanding presence gathers, and greet the valiant warrior as the master of the word he is.
For his central teaching, bring Cimejes the art of the word you would master. For grammar, ask him to teach you the right structure of language -- the correct forms, the true meanings, the sound construction of speech and writing. For logic, ask him to sharpen your reasoning -- to teach you the valid steps of thought, the sound argument, and the eye that detects the flaw in a false one. For rhetoric, ask him to teach you persuasion -- to say a thing well and movingly, to carry your meaning into another mind. And ask him, above all, for the confidence to wield all three with command: to speak and argue not timidly but with a warrior's valour, holding your ground and pressing your point. Take his teaching as the beginning of a real mastery, and practise the arts of the word, for they are honed by use.
Hold the ethic that governs all work with the arts of the word: these are weapons, and weapons may serve truth or deceit. Ask Cimejes to teach you logic to find and hold the truth, never to build clever traps to snare another; ask him to teach you rhetoric to carry the truth persuasively into other minds, never to make the false seem fair or the worse cause the better. The warrior of the word is honourable, or he is only a skilled liar with a sword. Wield what he teaches for the truth, and his gift is a noble one; turn it to deception, and it turns, as such things do, against the one who wields it.
For his finder's office, ask Cimejes to help you discover what is lost, hidden, or treasured -- a mislaid thing, a concealed matter, a hidden worth. Consider its inward form as well: ask him to help you recover what is lost in yourself -- an abandoned skill, a forgotten purpose, a buried gift -- and to uncover the treasure of your own worth that lies concealed. The master of the spoken and reasoned word is also a finder of what is lost to sight.
Practitioners describe Cimejes's presence as bold, confident, and commanding, valiant and vigorous, joined to a clarity and eloquence of mind. When he has heard, his help tends to arrive as a new command of the word -- a clearer and more correct speech, a sounder and sharper reasoning, a persuasion that carries where it did not before, and above all a new confidence in wielding language and argument without timidity. In his finder's office it arrives as the lost thing coming to light or the hidden worth revealed. Look for the strengthening of your command of the word. Keep a written record, and practise what he teaches, for his arts are honed by use.
Work with Cimejes in the valiant and honourable spirit he embodies. Take his teaching of the trivium as a real discipline to be practised, not a mastery handed over. Wield the logic and rhetoric he teaches for the truth, never for deception -- the warrior of the word is honourable, or he is nothing but a liar with a weapon. Let his confidence make you bold in the word, not arrogant or overbearing; the valiant warrior holds his ground without needing to trample. And use his finding, inwardly, to recover what is truly your own. He is the warrior of the word and master of the trivium, among the most valuable and bracing of all the spirits of the Goetia, and to the seeker who would command language and reason and wield them rightly, he gives the foundation on which the whole mind is built.