All the same, I was born in Bloemfontein, Orange River Free State – another fallacious fact (though my earliest memories are of a hot country) since I was shipped home in 1895, and have spent most of 60 years since in Birmingham and Oxford, except for 5 or 6 years in Leeds: my first post after the 1914–18 War was in the university there. I am very untravelled, though I know Wales, and have often been in Scotland (never north of the Tay), and know something of France, Belgium, and Ireland. I have spent a good deal of time in Ireland, and am since last July actually a D. Litt. of University College Dublin; but be it noted I first set foot in ‘Eire’ in 1949 after The Lord of the Rings was finished, and find both Gaelic and the air of Ireland wholly alien – though the latter (not the language) is attractive.
I might add that in October I received a degree (Doct. en Lettres et Phil.) at Liège (Belgium) – if only to record the fact that it astonished me to be welcomed in French as ‘le createur de M. Bilbo Baggins’ and still more to be told in explanation of applause that I was a ‘set book’ ?????? Alas!
If I might elucidate what H. Breit has left of my letter: the remark about ‘philology’ was intended to allude to what is I think a primary ‘fact’ about my work, that it is all of a piece, and fundamentally linguistic in inspiration. The authorities of the university might well consider it an aberration of an elderly professor of philology to write and publish fairy stories and romances, and call it a ‘hobby’, pardonable because it has been (surprisingly to me as much as to anyone) successful. But it is not a ‘hobby’, in the sense of something quite different from one’s work, taken up as a relief-outlet. The invention of languages is the foundation. The ‘stories’ were made rather to provide a world for the languages than the reverse. To me a name comes first and the story follows.fn45 I should have preferred to write in ‘Elvish’. But, of course, such a work as The Lord of the Rings has been edited and only as much ‘language’ has been left in as I thought would be stomached by readers. (I now find that many would have liked more.) But there is a great deal of linguistic matter (other than actually ‘elvish’ names and words) included or mythologically expressed in the book. It is to me, anyway, largely an essay in ‘linguistic aesthetic’, as I sometimes say to people who ask me ‘what is it all about?’
It is not ‘about’ anything but itself. Certainly it has no allegorical intentions, general, particular, or topical, moral, religious, or political. The only criticism that annoyed me was one that it ‘contained no religion’ (and ‘no Women’, but that does not matter, and is not true anyway). It is a monotheistic world of ‘natural theology’. The odd fact that there are no churches, temples, or religious rites and ceremonies, is simply part of the historical climate depicted. It will be sufficiently explained, if (as now seems likely) the Silmarillion and other legends of the First and Second Ages are published. I am in any case myself a Christian; but the ‘Third Age’ was not a Christian world.
‘Middle-earth’, by the way, is not a name of a never-never land without relation to the world we live in (like the Mercury of Eddison).4 It is just a use of Middle English middel-erde (or erthe), altered from Old English Middangeard: the name for the inhabited lands of Men ‘between the seas’. And though I have not attempted to relate the shape of the mountains and land-masses to what geologists may say or surmise about the nearer past, imaginatively this ‘history’ is supposed to take place in a period of the actual Old World of this planet.
There are of course certain things and themes that move me specially. The inter-relations between the ‘noble’ and the ‘simple’ (or common, vulgar) for instance. The ennoblement of the ignoble I find specially moving. I am (obviously) much in love with plants and above all trees, and always have been; and I find human maltreatment of them as hard to bear as some find ill-treatment of animals.
I think the so-called ‘fairy story’ one of the highest forms of literature, and quite erroneously associated with children (as such). But my views on that I set out in a lecture delivered at St Andrew’s (on the Andrew Lang foundation, eventually published in Essays Presented to Charles Williams by Oxford University Press, as ‘On Fairy Stories’). I think it is quite an important work, at least for anyone who thinks me worth considering at all; but the O.U.P. have infuriatingly let it go out of print, though it is now in demand – and my only copy has been stolen. Still it might be found in a library, or I might get hold of a copy.
If all this is obscure, wordy, and self-regarding and neither ‘bright, brief, nor quotable’ forgive me. Is there anything else you would like me to say?
Yours sincerely,
J(ohn) R(onald) R(euel) Tolkien.
P.S. The book is not of course a ‘trilogy’. That and the titles of the volumes was a fudge thought necessary for publication, owing to length and cost. There is no real division into 3, nor is any one part intelligible alone. The story was conceived and written as a whole and the only natural divisions are the ‘books’ I–VI (which originally had titles).
[Most of the central portion of this autobiographical statement was incorporated into an article, ‘Tolkien on Tolkien’, in the October 1966 issue of the magazine Diplomat. This article included three paragraphs not in the text quoted above, which were presumably written circa 1966:]
This business began so far back that it might be said to have begun at birth. Somewhere about six years old I tried to write some verses on a dragon about which I now remember nothing except that it contained the expression a green great dragon and that I remained puzzled for a very long time at being told that this should be great green. But the mythology (and associated languages) first began to take shape during the 1914–18 war. The Fall of Gondolin (and the birth of Eärendil) was written in hospital and on leave after surviving the Battle of the Somme in 1916. The kernel of the mythology, the matter of Lúthien Tinúviel and Beren, arose from a small woodland glade filled with ‘hemlocks’ (or other white umbellifers) near Roos on the Holderness peninsula – to which I occasionally went when free from regimental duties while in the Humber Garrison in 1918.
I came eventually and by slow degrees to write The Lord of the Rings to satisfy myself: of course without success, at any rate not above 75 percent. But now (when the work is no longer hot, immediate or so personal) certain features of it, and especially certain places, still move me very powerfully. The heart remains in the description of Cerin Amroth (end of Vol. I, Bk. ii, ch. 6), but I am most stirred by the sound of the horses of the Rohirrim at cockcrow; and most grieved by Gollum’s failure (just) to repent when interrupted by Sam: this seems to me really like the real world in which the instruments of just retribution are seldom themselves just or holy; and the good are often stumbling blocks. . . . .
Nothing has astonished me more (and I think my publishers) than the welcome given to The Lord of the Rings. But it is, of course, a constant source of consolation and pleasure to me. And, I may say, a piece of singular good fortune, much envied by some of my contemporaries. Wonderful people still buy the book, and to a man ‘retired’ that is both grateful and comforting.
166 From a letter to Allen & Unwin
22 July 1955
[The proofs of the Appendices to the third volume, The Return of the King, caused Tolkien much worry. They arrived late from the printers, and he found that the page intended to carry a phonetic ‘key’ to the Angerthas or Dwarf-runes had been printed without the phonetic symbols it was supposed to contain. He sent back this page with the symbols drawn in by hand, whereupon the printers reproduced this rough drawing in facsimile, which was not what he had intended; his wish was that they should set up the phonetic symbols in type. He was also anxious because he had not received page proofs of the narrative of The Return of the King incorporating revisions that he had sent to the printers some time earlier. The following letter, dealing with these matters, is typical of many harassed letters he wrote during these weeks.]
I return in separate parcel the material sent to me (arrived mid-day Wednesday). I have done
my best and quickest with it; but I fear I have missed today’s post and this will not go until tomorrow. Time is short, and the material rather intricate!
I am still puzzled and dissatisfied with the procedure – at any rate it makes my part much more laborious, and greatly increases the chances of errors and discrepancies still appearing in the published volume.
I know that I sent in corrections after the revised page proofs had been returned. But that is now a very long time back and I do not yet understand why I should now receive Queries, raised by the head reader in the course of his ‘final reading of the main text’ that are not based on the final text, but on one that does not incorporate numerous (and some extensive) revisions. Errors are almost certain to occur, or to have occurred, at some of these points. The compositors always make mistakes in setting from my handwriting!
I am also a little disturbed because though the selected pages of Queries are presented ‘for Queries only’, and contain corrections of small details (as well as Queries) throughout, there remain errors in these pages that are neither queried nor corrected. For instance the heading House of Healing throughout Bk. V Ch. 8 in spite of the chapter title.
I have, however, v. little time left now, and could not deal with anything that arrived after Wed. morning next. Not being satisfied nor indeed (frankly) wholly reassured, I have made out a list of all the emendations, insertions, and corrections of the main text which do not yet appear in the proofs. I have made this list as clear as I can, and I hope it will be carefully checked with the text. . . . .
I can only hope that the Angerthas will come out all right in the wash! But I am rather anxious. Jarrolds appear to have adopted my suggestion and now propose to use the phonetic letter ŋ instead of my . But the Table in printable form that I sent in, & which you reported (on ’phone) was being adopted, used .
I hope care will be taken to use either or throughout. And also, please, NOT to replace ng by ŋ. I am alarmed by the Reader’s query of ng at the end of (p. 404) line 23. This reveals that, for all his eagle eye, he has not understood the simple distinction that is being made; or so it would seem. . . . .
I hope some of this is legible. I am v. tired.
167 From a letter to Christopher and Faith Tolkien
15 August 1955
[Tolkien, with his daughter Priscilla, visited Italy from late July to mid-August.]
I am still staggered by the frescoes of Assisi. You must visit it. We came in for the great feast of Santa Chiara and the eve Aug. 11–12. High Mass sung by Cardinal Micara with silver trumpets at the elevation!
I am typing out a diary. I remain in love with Italian, and feel quite lorn without a chance of trying to speak it! We must keep it up. . . . .
On the whole for pure fun and pleasure, I enjoyed the first days at Venice most. But we lived v. cheap in Assisi, and I have brought about £50 back. Our opera was washed out by torrents all Thursday evening; but they put on a special extra on Friday (our last day in Venice) at which our tickets were good. So we had our Rigoletto. Perfectly astounding.
168 To Richard Jeffery
[A reply to a reader who had asked for a translation of the opening words of one of Treebeard’s songs (Book III, chapter 4), and for an explanation of several names, including ‘Onodrim’, the Sindarin Elvish name for the Ents.]
7 September 1955
76 Sandfield Road, Headington, Oxford
Dear Mr Jeffery,
Thank you very much for your letter. . . . It came while I was away, in Gondor (sc. Venice), as a change from the North Kingdom, or I would have answered before.
At any rate your command of Elvish script (not Runes) is quite good enough to read. But there are, of course, no rules for the application to English, so it is impossible to make mistakes, unless according to your own system – so I suppose your name is Richard, though you wrote , which on your system should be Rijard . However, there will be sufficient description of the ‘letters’ (tengwar) and of the ‘runes’ (certar) in Vol. III Appendices for anyone who is interested. . . . .
It has unfortunately not proved possible, as I had hoped, to give an index of Names (with meanings), which would have provided also a fair vocabulary of Elvish words. There were far too many and the space and cost were prohibitive. But I spent a long time trying to make a list, and that is one reason for the delay of Vol. III. . . . .
Most of the questions you ask will be answered in Vol. III, I think. . . . . Orofarne, lassemista, carnemírie is High-elven (the language preferred by Ents) for ‘mountain-dwelling, leaf-grey, with adornment of red jewels’.
The ‘correct’ plural of onod was enyd, or general plural onodrim; though ened might be a form used in Gondor. But en, ened = middle, centre as in Endor, Endore Middle-earth (S. ennorath); and enedwaith = middle-people/ or region, as Forodwaith = north-region, &c. It was not a desert when the name was given; but became so during the Third Age.1 See the Chronology of the Second and Third Ages in Appendices to Vol. III. Peregrin is, of course, a real modern name, though it means ‘traveller in strange countries’. Frodo is a real name from the Germanic tradition. Its Old English form was Fróda. Its obvious connexion is with the old word fród meaning etymologically ‘wise by experience’, but it had mythological connexions with legends of the Golden Age in the North. . . . .
Yours sincerely,
J. R. R. Tolkien
169 From a letter to Hugh Brogan
11 September 1955
Your discovery of ‘Numinor’ in C.S.L.’s That Hideous Strength is discovery of a plagiarism: well, not that, since he used the word, taken from my legends of the First and Second Ages, in the belief that they would soon appear. They have not, but I suppose now they may. The spelling Numinor is due to his hearing it and not seeing it. Númenóre or Númenor means in High-elven simply West-land. As for the shape of the world of the Third Age, I am afraid that was devised ‘dramatically’ rather than geologically, or paleontologically. I do sometimes wish that I had made some sort of agreement between the imaginations or theories of the geologists and my map a little more possible. But that would only have made more trouble with human history.
170 From a letter to Allen & Unwin
30 September 1955
When is Vol. III likely now to appear? I shall be murdered if something does not happen soon.
171 To Hugh Brogan
[In December 1954, Brogan wrote to Tolkien criticising the archaic narrative style of parts of The Two Towers, especially the chapter ‘The King of the Golden Hall’; he called this style ‘Ossianic’, and said he agreed with a critic’s description of it as ‘tushery’. At the time, Tolkien made no reply to this; but when on 18 September 1955 Brogan wrote again, apologising for being ‘impertinent, stupid, or sycophantic’, Tolkien began to draft what follows. In the event he did not send it, but instead wrote a brief note saying that the matter of archaism ‘would take too long to debate’ in a letter and must wait until their next meeting.]
[September 1955]
Dear Hugh,
. . . . Don’t be disturbed: I have not noticed any impertinence (or sycophancy) in your letters; and anyone so appreciative and so perceptive is entitled to criticism. Anyway, I do not naturally breathe an air of undiluted incense! It was not what you said (last letter but one, not the one that I answered) or your right to say it, that might have called for a reply, if I had the time for it; but the pain that I always feel when anyone – in an age when almost all auctorial manhandling of English is permitted (especially if disruptive) in the name of art or ‘personal expression’ – immediately dismisses out of court deliberate ‘archaism’. The proper use of ‘tushery’ is to apply it to the kind of bogus ‘medieval’ stuff which attempts (without knowledge) to give a supposed temporal colour with expletives, such as tush, pish, zounds, marry, and the like. But a real archaic English is far more terse than modern; also many of things said could not be said in our slack and often frivolous idiom. Of course, not being specially well read in modern En
glish, and far more familiar with works in the ancient and ‘middle’ idioms, my own ear is to some extent affected; so that though I could easily recollect how a modern would put this or that, what comes easiest to mind or pen is not quite that. But take an example from the chapter that you specially singled out (and called terrible): Book iii, ‘The King of the Golden Hall’. ‘Nay, Gandalf!’ said the King. ‘You do not know your own skill in healing. It shall not be so. I myself will go to war, to fall in the front of the battle, if it must be. Thus shall I sleep better.’
This is a fair sample – moderated or watered archaism. Using only words that still are used or known to the educated, the King would really have said: ‘Nay, thou (n’)wost1 not thine own skill in healing. It shall not be so. I myself will go to war, to fall …’ etc. I know well enough what a modern would say. ‘Not at all my dear G. You don’t know your own skill as a doctor. Things aren’t going to be like that. I shall go to the war in person, even if I have to be one of the first casualties’ – and then what? Theoden would certainly think, and probably say ‘thus shall I sleep better’! But people who think like that just do not talk a modern idiom. You can have ‘I shall lie easier in my grave’, or ‘I should sleep sounder in my grave like that rather than if I stayed at home’ – if you like. But there would be an insincerity of thought, a disunion of word and meaning. For a King who spoke in a modern style would not really think in such terms at all, and any reference to sleeping quietly in the grave would be a deliberate archaism of expression on his part (however worded) far more bogus than the actual ‘archaic’ English that I have used. Like some non-Christian making a reference to some Christian belief which did not in fact move him at all.
The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien Page 31
