You've probably seen it mentioned in a late-night Reddit thread or a niche occult forum. The name itself—the Book of Blackness—sounds like something straight out of a low-budget horror flick or a high-fantasy RPG. But the reality is a lot more grounded in the messy, superstitious history of the 18th and 19th centuries. Honestly, most of what people claim about this text today is just a game of digital telephone.
It isn't a single, cursed object that grants world-ending powers. It's actually a nickname.
Most historians and bibliophiles recognize this title as a reference to a specific type of folk magic handbook, most notably the Sixth and Seventh Books of Moses. This was a "grimoire"—a textbook of magic—that claimed to contain the secret spells used by the biblical Moses to part the Red Sea and perform miracles. By the time it started circulating in the Americas, particularly within Pennsylvania Dutch and African American hoodoo traditions, it gained a reputation so dark that people just started calling it the Book of Blackness.
Why the Book of Blackness Terrified Our Ancestors
History is weird. In the 1800s, owning a book like this wasn't just a hobby; in some communities, it was considered a literal contract with the underworld. People were genuinely terrified of it.
There are accounts from the Appalachian mountains where families would refuse to touch a copy. They believed that if you owned it, you couldn't die until you "passed the book" to someone else. It was seen as a living thing. If you tried to burn it, the pages wouldn't catch fire. If you threw it in a river, it would float back upstream.
Is any of that true?
Of course not. But the belief was real, and that’s what gave the Book of Blackness its cultural weight. The text itself is a dense, often confusing collection of pseudo-Hebrew symbols, incantations, and seals. It looks intimidating. If you’re a rural farmer in 1850 and you stumble upon a book filled with geometric sigils and claims about summoning planetary spirits, you're going to be spooked.
The Pennsylvania Dutch Connection
The most common version of this text was actually printed in Germany and brought over to the United States. It became a cornerstone of "Pow-wowing" or Braucherei, a form of folk healing. While many Pow-wowers used a different book called The Long Lost Friend, the "Books of Moses" were the dark mirror. They were the "black" side of the craft.
Basically, while one book was for healing your neighbor's cow, the Book of Blackness was for, well, everything else.
The Reality of the "Spells" Inside
If you actually open a copy of the Sixth and Seventh Books of Moses today—which you can easily find on Amazon or in a public library—you’ll likely be disappointed if you’re looking for fireballs.
It’s dry. Really dry.
The book is mostly a collection of "Magical Seals." These are complex drawings that you're supposed to carry with you to achieve certain results. For example:
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- The Seal of the Choir of Thrones is meant to help you with legal troubles.
- The Seal of the Cherubim is supposed to protect you from enemies.
- The Seal of the Seraphim is intended to help with health and "purity."
It reads more like a technical manual for a piece of software that doesn't exist anymore. You've got long lists of "spirit names" like Ariel, Mephistopheles (yes, that one), and Azrael. The instructions are incredibly specific. You have to write certain names on parchment at 3:00 AM while facing East. It's a lot of work.
Most people who bought these books in the 19th century probably never actually performed the rituals. It was more about the prestige or the fear of owning the knowledge. It was the original "edgelord" accessory.
Misconceptions and Modern Myths
We need to clear something up: the Book of Blackness is not a "Satanic Bible."
Actually, the text is heavily Christianized. It constantly references "The Lord," "Adonai," and "Jehovah." It frames magic as a gift from God given to Moses. The "blackness" in the title doesn't refer to evil in a modern sense; it refers to "hidden" or "veiled" knowledge. Think of it like "Black Ops"—it’s off the record, not necessarily villainous.
The "Curse" of the Physical Copy
One of the most persistent myths is that you can't simply "get rid" of the book.
I’ve talked to antique book collectors who have handled dozens of these. They haven't been followed by ghosts. Their houses haven't burned down. The "curse" was likely a marketing tactic used by 19th-century printers to make the book seem more powerful than it was. If you tell someone a book is dangerous, they want to buy it twice as much.
Human nature hasn't changed in 200 years.
Is it linked to Necronomicon?
No. Not even close.
H.P. Lovecraft’s Necronomicon is 100% fictional. It was a literary device. The Book of Blackness, however, is a real historical artifact. While Lovecraft might have been inspired by the vibe of real grimoires, they are two completely different things. One is a prop for Cthulhu stories; the other is a piece of genuine (if bizarre) folklore that people used to try and cure warts or win lawsuits.
Why Does It Still Show Up in Pop Culture?
You’ll see traces of the Book of Blackness in movies like The Witch or TV shows about the supernatural. Producers love it because it provides a visual shorthand for "ancient, dangerous wisdom."
But the real reason it persists is that it represents a time when the world was still mysterious. Before we had Google Maps and Wikipedia, there was a sense that there were secrets hidden in old dusty basements. The idea that a single book could change your destiny is an incredibly powerful narrative.
Even today, in an age of science, people are drawn to the idea that there's a "cheat code" for reality.
The Ethical and Cultural Weight
We can't talk about this text without acknowledging its role in African American folk magic, specifically Hoodoo.
During the late 19th and early 20th centuries, "The Book" became a tool of empowerment for people who had very little legal or social power. If the law wouldn't help you, maybe a seal from the Book of Blackness would. It was a way for marginalized communities to reclaim a sense of agency.
However, this also led to a lot of exploitation. Mail-order companies in the early 1900s, like the de Laurence Co., made a fortune selling "authentic" magical books to vulnerable people. They’d charge a week’s wages for a book that cost cents to print.
It’s a reminder that the history of magic is often just the history of marketing.
Practical Steps for the Curious
If you’re interested in exploring the history of the Book of Blackness without falling into the trap of internet creepypastas, here is how you should actually approach it.
- Read the Source Material: Don't rely on TikTok summaries. Look for a PDF of the Sixth and Seventh Books of Moses. It's in the public domain. Read the introduction. You’ll see it’s a lot more academic and religious than people claim.
- Visit Local Archives: If you’re in Pennsylvania or the South, check out local historical societies. They often have physical copies of these folk grimoires. Seeing the actual physical object—often small, cheaply bound, and well-worn—strips away the "spooky" aura and replaces it with human history.
- Study the Folklorists: Look up the work of Owen Davies, a historian who specializes in the history of grimoires. His book Grimoires: A History of Magic Books provides the actual context for why these texts were written and who was buying them.
- Check the "Key of Solomon": If you want to understand where these ideas came from, go further back. The Key of Solomon is the "ancestor" to many of these texts. It’ll give you a better grasp of the symbols used in the Book of Blackness.
- Ignore the "Doom" Hype: If a website tells you that reading the text will bring bad luck, they are trying to sell you a "cleansing" or just looking for clicks. It’s a book. It's paper and ink. Treat it with the same historical respect you'd give a 19th-century medical journal—interesting, often wrong, but a fascinating window into the past.
The real "power" of the Book of Blackness isn't in the spells. It’s in what it tells us about our ancestors' fears, their hopes, and their desperate desire to control a world that often felt chaotic and cruel. Understanding that is far more rewarding than memorizing a list of spirit names.