beauteous

[Jim Eshelman]

@ViaLuxInTenebresEs said

"Nuit can't speak English."

No, but Aiwass seems able to.

[Elmida]

Or maybe Aiwass didn't but Crowley, the medium, did. I mean, I don't speak Russian but Google Translate, the medium, does.

[Jim Eshelman]

@Elmida said

"Or maybe Aiwass didn't but Crowley, the medium, did. I mean, I don't speak Russian but Google Translate, the medium, does."

Crowley was very explicit, in Equinox of the Gods and elsewhere, that this dictation was not the sort of telepathic contact that one wrestles into language at the receiving end. He said (I paraphrase, not having the text in front of me) that Aiwass spoke aloud in clear, audible words, and these were taken down verbatim.

[ViaLuxInTenebresEst]

Does it really matter? whether crowley that heard it from his own head, believing that it might have been coming from a manifesting spirit in the room or whether the manifesting spirit appeared in the room such that not only Crowley could hear but also the people in the next few rooms is totally irrelevant to the question at hand!

Why was the word beauteous used instead of beautiful. in early 20th C was it popular? Does it convey a hidden meaning? Crowley was well known for hiding occult secrets in plain sight.

[Bereshith]

The difference in suffixes is teased out with a little pedantic imagination and license.

The suffix "-ful" literally (pedantically) suggests that the object is "full" of a quality.

The suffix "-ous" suggests that the object is "characterized by" a quality.

So, if one did wish to get really picky with the suffixes, one might end up trying to say something like - Nuit is not the kind of object to be merely seen as 'full' of beauty, as this might suggest merely one quality listed among the myriad that she contains within herself. Instead, this particular choice may intend to suggest that Nuit's chief quality or most salient characteristic is beauty. --or something along those lines.

[Avshalom Binyamin]

@ViaLuxInTenebresEs said

"Does it really matter? "

Yes, because in the one circumstance we start asking things like "why did Crowley prefer x?" which means we're missing the point.

[Jim Eshelman]

@ViaLuxInTenebresEs said

"Why was the word beauteous used instead of beautiful. in early 20th C was it popular? Does it convey a hidden meaning? Crowley was well known for hiding occult secrets in plain sight."

The only real difference is that beauteous is more poetic.

Of course, there could be a gematria reason also. Since not even a single letter (or even the style of a letter) is to be changed, we have cause to suspect a significance to individual letters at any point.

As with every phrase in the book, there is much here to explore.

For example, using the Anglo-Hebraic transliteration common to AC which appears to be the key that would be found by the prophet, beauteous = BHAVTHOVS = 2 + 5 + 1 + 6 + 9 + 5 + 70 + 6 + 60 = 164. While this doesn't mean anything in particular to me, it might be a clue. (Or beauteous one, by this approach, is 289, or the square of 17, showing the Star card?)

I suspect, though, that the main purpose is simply poetic stylization.

BTW, this is verse 26... the 6th or Tiphereth verse of the Gimel decad of verses. Quite a square hit for the Beauty of the ultimate pale blue Priestess.

[Elmida]

@Jim Eshelman said

"
@Elmida said
"Or maybe Aiwass didn't but Crowley, the medium, did. I mean, I don't speak Russian but Google Translate, the medium, does."

Crowley was very explicit, in Equinox of the Gods and elsewhere, that this dictation was not the sort of telepathic contact that one wrestles into language at the receiving end. He said (I paraphrase, not having the text in front of me) that Aiwass spoke aloud in clear, audible words, and these were taken down verbatim."

I'm sorry, I could have and should have known that.

[SteveM]

"beauteous", "slave" and "prophet" together conjure up the language of Victorian bodice rippers, in which pure Christian ladies were held captive by lecherous Saracens... according to Crowley Rose was particularly fond of such, and he wrote a few in similar style for her pleasure.

(Crowley said that he interrupted the dictation with his own thoughts here, so though Aiwass is speaking, it is Crowley's (telepathic) enquiry (Who am I? What shall be the sign?) echoed in the dictation: "Then saith the prophet and slave of the beauteous one: Who am I, and what shall be the sign?" )

Does this passage relate to that of the 'slaves shall serve'? Are the 'slaves that serve' Nuit's prophets?

[SteveM]

@SteveM said

""beauteous", "slave" and "prophet" together conjure up the language of Victorian bodice rippers, in which pure Christian ladies were held captive by lecherous Saracens... according to Crowley Rose was particularly fond of such, and he wrote a few in similar style for her pleasure.
"

In connection with 'beauteous' and Saracens I am led to the think of the recurring theme of knowing the 'beauteous breath' and 'Goodly Gift of Grace' in Crowley's poem Sir Palamedes the Saracen Knight and his following the Questing Beast:

Demand him of his dignity.
Whereat the dwarf begins to tell
A quest of loftiest chivalry. {18}

           Quod he: "By Goddes holy spell,
             So high a venture was not known,
           Nor so divine a miracle.

           A certain beast there runs alone,
             That ever in his belly sounds
           A hugeous cry, a monster moan,

           As if a thirty couple hounds
             Quested with him.  Now God saith
           (I swear it by His holy wounds

           And by His lamentable death,
             And by His holy Mother's face!)
           That he shall know the Beauteous Breath

           And taste the Goodly Gift of Grace
             Who shall achieve this marvel quest."
           Then Arthur sterte up from his place,

           And sterte up boldly all the rest,
             And sware to seek this goodly thing.
           But now the dwarf doth beat his breast,

           And speak on this wise to the king,
             That he should worthy knight be found
           Who with his hands the dwarf should bring

           By might one span from off the ground.
             Whereat they jeer, the dwarf so small,
           The knights so strong: the walls resound {19}

           With laughter rattling round the hall.
             But Arthur first essays the deed,
           And may not budge the dwarf at all.

. . .

His vow forgot, his task undone,
His soul whipped in God's bitter school!
(He moaned a mighty malison!)
The perfect knight? The perfect fool!

           "Now, by God's wounds!" quoth he, "my strength
             Is burnt out to a pest of pains.
           Let me fling off my curse at length
             In old Chaldea's starry plains!

           Thou blessŠd Jesus, foully nailed
             Unto the cruel Calvary tree,
           Look on my soul's poor fort assailed
             By all the hosts of devilry!

           Is there no medicine but death
             That shall avail me in my place,
           That I may know the Beauteous Breath
             And taste the Goodly Gift of Grace?

           Keep Thou yet firm this trembling leaf
             My soul, dear God Who died for men;
           Yea! for that sinner-soul the chief,
             Sir Palamede the Saracen!"

. . .

"God's wounds!" (Sir Palamedes said),
"What have I done to earn this portion?
Must I, the clean knight born and bred,

           Sup with this filthy toad-abortion?"
             Nathless he stayed with him awhile,
           Lest by disdain his mention torsion

           Slip back, or miss the serene smile
             Should crown his quest; for (as onesaith)
           The unknown may lurk within the vile.

           So he who sought the Beauteous Breath,
             Desired the Goodly Gift of Grace,
           Went equal into life and death.

           But oh! the foulness of his face!
             Not here was anything of worth;
           He turned his back upon the place,

           Sought the blue sky and the green earth,
             Ay! and the lustral sea to cleanse
           That filth that stank about his girth,  {82}

           The sores and scabs, the warts and wens,
             The nameless vermin he had gathered
           In those insufferable dens,

           The foul diseases he had fathered.
             So now the quest slips from his brain:
           "First (Christ!) let me be clean again!"  

. . .

SIR PALAMEDE is sick to death!
The staring eyen, the haggard face!
God grant to him the Beauteous breath!
god send the Goodly Gift of Grace!

           There is a white cave by the sea
             Wherein the knight is hid away.
           Just ere the night falls, spieth he
             The sun's last shaft flicker astray.

           All day is dark.  There, there he mourns
             His wasted years, his purpose faint.
           A million whips, a million scorns
             Make the knight flinch, and stain the saint.

           For now! what hath he left?  He feeds
             On limpets and wild roots.  What odds?
           There is no need a mortal needs
             Who hath loosed man's hope to grasp at God's!

. . .

Then every knight turned to his brother,
Sobbing and signing for great gladness;
And, as they looked on one another, {111}

           Surely there stole a subtle madness
             Into their veins, more strong than death:
           For all the roots of sin and sadness

           Were plucked.  As a flower perisheth,
             So all sin died.  And in that place
           All they did know the Beauteous Breath

           And taste the Goodly Gift of Grace.
             Then fell the night.  Above the baying
           Of the great Beast, that was the bass

           To all the harps of Heaven a-playing,
             There came a solemn voice (not one
           But was upon his knees in praying

           And glorifying God).  The Son
             Of God Himself --- men thought --- spoke then.
           "Arise! brave soldier, thou hast won

           The quest not given to mortal men.
             Arise!  Sir Palamede Adept,
           Christian, and no more Saracen!

. . .

All led to the one goal. Now praise
Thy Lord hat He hat brought thee through
To win the quest!" The good knight lays {112}

           His hand upon the Beast.  Then blew
             Each angel on his trumpet, then
           All Heaven resounded that it knew

           Sir Palamede the Saracen
             Was master!  Through the domes of death,
           Through all the mighty realms of men

           And spirits breathed the Beauteous Breath:
             They taste the Goodly Gift of Grace.
           --- Now 'tis the chronicler that saith:

           Our Saviour grant in little space
             That also I, even I, be blest
           Thus, though so evil is my case ---

           Let them that read my rime attest
             The same sweet unction in my pen ---
           That writes in pure blood of my breast;

           For that I figure unto men
             The story of my proper quest
             As thine, first Eastern in the West,
           Sir Palamede the Saracen!  {113}

extracts from THE HIGH HISTORY OF GOOD SIR PALAMEDES THE SARACEN KNIGHT AND OF HIS FOLLOWING THE QUESTING BEAST" BY ALEISTER CROWLEY RIGHTLY SET FORTH IN RIME

                  TO ALLAN BENNETT

              "Bhikkhu Ananda Metteyya"

  my good knight comrade in the quest, I dedicate this
  imperfect account of it, in some small recognition of
               his suggestion of its form.

    MANDALAY, "November" 1905