The Magical Name of God: “Windows of Night,” 1925

In this phase of the life of The Oddest Inkling, I am posting summaries of each of CW’s books in chronological order. These are punctuated by related posts on themes, events, and people in his life as they relate to those books or to where we are on his timeline, or by news announcements.

Book Summary #6: Windows of Night, 1925
Part Two

In addition to all the themes discussed in the previous post, I expected to find many references to the occult in Windows of Night–specifically, material drawn from the Rosicrucian rituals that Williams had been engaged in for about 7 years when he wrote this book. Indeed, the years 1917-1924 were perhaps the period of most involvement with the F.R.C.

For discussions of Williams’s occult membership, see the following posts:
A. E. Waite and the Occult
Charles Williams and the F.R.C.
Sources for CW and the FRC

He was particularly involved in 1924, when he climbed to a higher stage of Adeptship. He served as Master of the Temple (essentially the functional priest of that particular Order), performing the rituals from memory, for six months in 1921 and another six months in 1924. For this information and more details, see R.A. Gilbert’s book A. E. Waite: Magician of Many Parts, chapter 16 “Frater Sacramentus Regis and His Fellowship of the Rosy Cross”; this book is cited in my bibliography of secondary works.

This is just to say: one would expect a book published in 1925 to contain many references to Rosicrucian ritual. Yet it does not. I count only five such references, and they might even be a bit of a stretch. Let me take you through those references.

1. The first is in the poem “Gnostic Apologue on the Parable of the Talents,” pp. 33-35. This is really a stretch, because the only “occult” reference is in the title—“gnostic” means secret or esoteric knowledge—and in the basic premise of the poem, which is the telling of a secret story about another man who was given one talent and hid it away. So the only occult feature here is the idea of secret knowledge passed down by word of mouth. And that could very well be just a creative idea, not gleaned from the F.R.C.

2. In “On Seeing the New Moon: Palinode,” p. 100 (a beautiful example of the True Myth principle), CW writes about “holy ritual” that occurs everywhere. This poem seems to invoke the esoteric principle: “As Above, So Below.” The Emerald Tablet of Hermes is an early, important hermetic text. You can read it here. One of its principles, in Madame Blavatsky’s translation, is “What is below is like that which is above, and what is above is similar to that which is below to accomplish the wonders of the one thing.” This is the principle of correspondence, or of the microcosm/macrocosm. This principle is subtly operative throughout many of CW’s works.

3. The sonnet “Saint Michael,” p. 135, refers to “the hierarchic mystery” and positions the Archangel Michael as a light guiding twelve great ships through the heavens—and those ships are “The twelve huge ships of the moving Zodiac.” The Zodiac takes on increasing importance in CW’s thought, culminating in the great visual mythology of his Arthuriad. For a detailed exposition of the symbolic importance of astrology in the imagination of the Inklings, see Michael Ward’s virtuosic study Planet Narnia: The Seven Heavens in the Imagination of C.S. Lewis (Oxford University Press, 2008) or his more popular version, The Narnia Code. I will summarize Planet Narnia later on this blog. For now, you should just know that the Inklings, especially Lewis and Williams, were fascinated with the metaphorical and spiritual possibilities of astrology—and it is likely that Williams took it quite seriously during his ten years in the F.R.C., practicing horoscope readings and other astrological rituals.

4. and 5. The final two occult references are to the Tetragrammaton: the unspeakable Name of God in Hebrew. There has long been a practice in Judaism that God’s own personal name must not be spoken aloud, for it is too high, holy, and precious. This name is written in Hebrew with the letters yod—he—waw—he. It looks like this:YHWH

Whenever a Hebrew person was reading the Bible out loud, when he came to this word he would not pronounce it. Instead, he would say “Adonai,” which is just the title “The Lord.”

There are two references to this Name in Windows of Night. The first is in “On her singing the Gloria,” p. 67.

The second is in “In Time of Danger,” p. 76.

If this is merely an ancient Jewish tradition, why am I including it in this discussion of the Occult? Well, because of an occult, mystical Jewish tradition that handles God’s name in another way altogether from the mainstream religion. This is the esoteric discipline of the Kabbalah or Qabbālâ (there are many different transliterations of the word). It emerged in the 12th century, although (like all occult traditions), it claims to have been passed down since the earliest times. Here is a little introductory article that discusses Qabbalah in a simple fashion. It explains that there are three kinds of Qabbalah: the theoretical, the meditative, and the magical. The magical “concerns itself with altering and influencing the course of nature. It also uses the Divine names, incantations, amulets, magical seals and various other mystical exercises.”

In the Qabbalistic tradition, then, meditations on and incantations with God’s name, and even just the letters of God’s name, is an important mystical and/or magical practice. A google image search for “tetragrammaton” will reveal all kinds of patterns and designs illustrative of this kind of meditation. This kind of meditation was certainly practiced in A. E. Waite’s Fellowship of the Rosy Cross; Williams probably led the initiates in some kind of chanting meditation or incantation on the Tetragrammaton during his time as Master of the Temple.

Now, the two references in Windows of Night do not make clear whether they are referring simply to God’s name as it appears in the Old Testament—a perfectly orthodox usage for an Anglican—or whether they are hinting at the esoteric usage. I am interpreting, based on my knowledge of CW’s biography at this point. Could I be wrong? Could he be using “the unnameable name” just the way any good Christian might? Sure, he could. But I don’t think so. Am I imposing my interpretation on his writings to make him seem ODDER than he really was? It is possible–but seems to be to be unlikely. Just wait until we get to his novel The Greater Trumps. Then you’ll see what he could do with the four letters of the Name of God!

About Sørina Higgins

Sørina Higgins is a PhD student in English and Presidential Scholar at Baylor University. She also serves as Chair of the Language and Literature Department at Signum University, online. Her latest publication is an academic essay collection on "The Inklings and King Arthur" (Apocryphile Press, December 2017). Her interests include British Modernism, the Inklings, Arthuriana, theatre, and magic. She holds an M.A. from Middlebury College’s Bread Loaf School of English. Sørina blogs about British poet Charles Williams at The Oddest Inkling, wrote the introduction to a new edition of Williams’s "Taliessin through Logres" (Apocryphile, 2016), and edited Williams’s "The Chapel of the Thorn" (Apocryphile, 2014). As a creative writer, Sørina has published two books of poetry, "The Significance of Swans" (2007) and "Caduceus" (2012).
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7 Responses to The Magical Name of God: “Windows of Night,” 1925

  1. David Llewellyn Dodds says:

    As a little addition and accent to what you say here, I note Anne Ridler’s observation in the introduction to her selection of his essays (Image, p. xxv): “it was [Waite’s] The Secret Doctrine in Israel (1913) which interested him most – and he continued to admire it, for he recommended me to read it, when I knew him in the thirties.” She even goes on to say – I am not sure how justly, but very interestingly – “In this book, I believe, are the foundations of Williams’s thought about the symbolism of the body, and of his lifelong attempt to develop an adequate theology of marriage”! For anyone of a mind to generalize Williams’s recommendation, and take the plunge, at least to dabble and browse around a bit in it, there is a scan of it in the Internet Archive (as well as another of some American reprint).


  2. David Llewellyn Dodds says:

    Just (double-)checking, I see that in the index to The Secret Doctrine in Israel, under “Name, Sacred” Waite includes 50 page-references (!)


  3. David Llewellyn Dodds says:

    Serendipitously, I just read a fascinating chapter on the ‘golem’ in a Dutch translation of the revised edition of Johannes Urzidil’s Da geht Kafka. Unfortunately, I have not been able to discover if the English translation by Harold A. Basilius as There Goes Kafka (Wayne State UP, 1968) includes this chapter or not. But I would heartily encourage every Anglophone C.W. reader to see if a library nearby has a copy, and find out. (There is also a Spanish translation, but, once again, whether or not it includes the golem chapter I do not know.) There are so many interesting points of comparison, with All Hallows’ Eve, but also with “Divites Dimisit”/”The Prayers of the Pope”, and with Shadows of Ecstasy, and broader very interesting points about piety in combination with magic in some Jewish tradition.


    • David Llewellyn Dodds says:

      It is worth noting that Urzidil does not have a very high opinion of Gustav Meyrink’s commercially successful and influential novel, The Golem (1915) – and his “hocus-pocus mysticism” in general. Having read this chapter, I decided I should nonetheless finally read Meyrink’s Golem. It is a page-turner, but variously creepy in senses other than that of successfully making your flesh crawl as supernatural fiction, so I will not recommend it.

      Curiously, it does not, in its references to the Golem legend, refer to the Name of God at all. But it does have diverse things that remind one of various of Charles Williams’s novels (including thematic use of Tarot cards) – and an English translation was published by Victor Gollancz in 1928.

      In just what senses, then, might it be in the background of Williams’s fiction? Was it among sensational novels he read after drafting at least his own first two? If so, was he encouraged to think how much better he could do, and already had done, and not give up on trying to get his novels published – perhaps by Gollancz? Maybe I can briefly try to attend to some of the things that in any case invite comparison, somewhere, sometime soon.


  4. Pingback: Charles Williams and Doctor Who, part 2: Cabbalistic beliefs about words | The Oddest Inkling

  5. joviator says:

    A Tetragrammaton story:
    A few weeks ago, I was sitting at a red light behind a car whose vanity plate said “IAH-WEH”. As it would for most 21st-century Americans, “IAH” to me means Houston Intercontinental Airport. “Weh” is the German word for pain or suffering. So I concluded that the driver was a German-speaker expressing sympathy for the destruction of Houston by hurricane Harvey, and marveled at the choice of such a peculiar medium for the sentiment.

    Fortunately, the red light was long enough that another interpretation could eventually suggest itself.

    Liked by 1 person

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