Of
course, this has to be my favorite episode. Even if there are others
that tug my heartstrings more, stories that go deeper and further,
events that lift me higher, I have to pick this episode as my
personal favorite, since it was obviously written for English majors
and English teachers. Oh, it is delightful.
There
are many aspects of this episode I could talk about, since it is
packed with literary treats. I'm going to pick out just one: the idea
of magical words.
It
is the magic of words that saves the world. Of course, though, the
words are not magical. There is a quasi-scientific explanation for
everything in Doctor
Who, no
matter how far-fetched. You know that sounds can actually do things
here, in the real world. The right pitch can break glass. I heard a
radio program once about scientists trying to develop a way of
targeting cancer cells with the right musical pitch. So in “The
Shakespeare Code,” the Carrionites use words “to channel energy.”
The Doctor compares it to quantum physics: “Given
the right string numbers, the right equation, you can split the atom.
Carrionites use words instead.” So the words are not magical: they
are merely the exact sequence of musical pitches and rhythmical beats
to set up the proper energy patterns and cause things to happen in
the universe: a rift to open for the Carrionites to come through,
then the rift to suck all the Carrionites back through and close for
good.
Now,
the idea of using the power of well-ordered words to channel energy
is ancient, in both magic and mysticism. Much magic relies on
incantations: particular words chanted in a particular order to yield
particular results. But there is another side to the concept of
magical words that is practiced in mysticism and even survives in a
diluted form in the most respectable churches. Many churches have a
liturgy that they follow. What is a liturgy but a series of organized
words? These words are said week after week, year after year,
millennium after millennium. They are intend to have actual spiritual
effects: to prompt the practitioner into repentance, humility,
exaltation, and a sense of union with God.
In
Mysticism, the practice is even more literal. I want to talk
particularly about one mystical tradition: the Qabalah.
You
will see this name spelled many different ways: Cabbalah, Kabalah,
etc. Some scholars auger that the spelling indicates a specific
meaning. I haven't gotten that far yet. But the Qabalah is a system
of Jewish mysticism that (among other things) teaches meditation on
the Name of God: on the letters
of
the name of God. The enlightened Qabalistic mystic is supposed to be
able to achieve a higher state of consciousness by writing these
letters over and over, reciting them, visualizing them, and so forth.
What
is this but another form of the magic of words?
The
idea of powerful, secret words runs through some of the deep-rooted
traditions of English literature. It is important in the legends
about King Arthur, which have had a profound influence on the English
consciousness.
One
early important
Arthurian poet was named Robert de Boron. He wrote in French in the
late twelfth and early thirteenth centuries. He writes about the Holy
Grail. In his version, Sir
Perceval becomes the Keeper of the Grail, and Perceval is also given
charge of secret
words
that are powerful and operative. This idea was passed down in many
versions of the legends.
These
ideas suddenly became really important again in England in the early
20th
century, when various scientific, political, and religious factors
led to an “occult revival” in which many people joined secret
societies. So the idea of magical, mystical, powerful words
influenced several writers who were in these groups: A.E.
Waite, W.B.
Yeats, Aleister Crowley, Algernon Blackwood, Arthur Machen, Evelyn
Underhill, and Charles
Williams.
They all practiced various kinds of incantations and meditations with
or on words that they believed were spiritually powerful.
And
then more recently and more popularly, this idea of magical, secret
words appared in the Harry Potter series. The children are taught
particular words to say for each spell. While Rowling never meditates
on the metaphysics of this magic, words are obviously essential to
the working of magic.
Then
in
Harry
Potter and the Deathly Hallows,
there is a secret, esoteric teaching handed down by word-of-mouth.
This occult message promises that when the Elder Wand, Resurrection
Stone, and Invisibility Cloak are “united,”
they will “make the possessor master of Death” (Rowling Deathly
Hallows 410),
“which has usually been understood to mean that they will be
invulnerable, even immortal” (Rowling, Tales
of Beedle the Bard 96).
The Deathly Hallows are very like the Grail Hallows of Arthurian
legend, as Denise Roper explains in her fun book The Lord of the Hallows.
But
Harry
eventually rejects this secret teaching, choosing to ignore it in his
determination to act out ultimate love via self-sacrifice.
Isn't
that just like the Doctor? While he uses the magical words—or
persuades Shakespeare to use them—he always choose plain
old-fashioned self-sacrifice over some kind of magical pyrotechnics.
And even here, when magical words are used, they
are from Harry
Potter!
So
magical words traveled through King Arthur stories through occult
poets into Harry Potter and then into Doctor
Who
(whether by direct descent or sub-conscious imagination doesn't
matter here), but the final messages about love and sacrifice are the
same.
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