The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien

by Humphrey Carpenter

  I have, I suppose, constructed an imaginary time, but kept my feet on my own mother-earth for place. I prefer that to the contemporary mode of seeking remote globes in ‘space’. However curious, they are alien, and not lovable with the love of blood-kin. Middle-earth is (by the way & if such a note is necessary) not my own invention. It is a modernization or alteration (N[ew] E[nglish] D[ictionary] ‘a perversion’) of an old word for the inhabited world of Men, the oikoumenē: middle because thought of vaguely as set amidst the encircling Seas and (in the northern-imagination) between ice of the North and the fire of the South. O.English middan-geard, mediæval E. midden-erd, middle-erd. Many reviewers seem to assume that Middle-earth is another planet!

  Theologically (if the term is not too grandiose) I imagine the picture to be less dissonant from what some (including myself) believe to be the truth. But since I have deliberately written a tale, which is built on or out of certain ‘religious’ ideas, but is not an allegory of them (or anything else), and does not mention them overtly, still less preach them, I will not now depart from that mode, and venture on theological disquisition for which I am not fitted. But I might say that if the tale is ‘about’ anything (other than itself), it is not as seems widely supposed about ‘power’. Power-seeking is only the motive-power that sets events going, and is relatively unimportant, I think. It is mainly concerned with Death, and Immortality; and the ‘escapes’: serial longevity, and hoarding memory.

  Yours sincerely

  J. R. R. Tolkien.

  212 Draft of a continuation of the above letter (not sent)

  Since I have written so much (I hope not too much) I might as well add a few lines on the Myth on which all is founded, since it may make clearer the relations of Valar, Elves, Men, Sauron, Wizards &c.

  The Valar or ‘powers, rulers’ were the first ‘creation’: rational spirits or minds without incarnation, created before the physical world. (Strictly these spirits were called Ainur, the Valar being only those from among them who entered the world after its making, and the name is properly applied only to the great among them, who take the imaginative but not the theological place of ‘gods’.) The Ainur took part in the making of the world as ‘sub-creators’: in various degrees, after this fashion. They interpreted according to their powers, and completed in detail, the Design propounded to them by the One. This was propounded first in musical or abstract form, and then in an ‘historical vision’. In the first interpretation, the vast Music of the Ainur, Melkor introduced alterations, not interpretations of the mind of the One, and great discord arose. The One then presented this ‘Music’, including the apparent discords, as a visible ‘history’.

  At this stage it had still only a validity, to which the validity of a ‘story’ among ourselves may be compared: it ‘exists’ in the mind of the teller, and derivatively in the minds of hearers, but not on the same plane as teller or hearers. When the One (the Teller) said Let it Be,fn76 then the Tale became History, on the same plane as the hearers; and these could, if they desired, enter into it. Many of the Ainur did enter into it, and must bide in it till the End, being involved in Time, the series of events that complete it. These were the Valar, and their lesser attendants. They were those who had ‘fallen in love’ with the vision, and no doubt, were those who had played the most ‘sub-creative’ (or as we might say ‘artistic’) part in the Music.

  It was because of their love of Eä, and because of the part they had played in its making, that they wished to, and could, incarnate themselves in visible physical forms, though these were comparable to our clothes (in so far as our clothes are a personal expression) not to our bodies. Their forms were thus expressions of their persons, powers, and loves. They need not be anthropomorphic (Yavanna wifefn77 of Aulë would, for instance, appear in the form of a great Tree.) But the ‘habitual’ shapes of the Valar, when visible or clothed, were anthropomorphic, because of their intense concern with Elves and Men.

  Elves and Men were called the ‘children of God’, because they were, so to speak, a private addition to the Design, by the Creator, and one in which the Valar had no part. (Their ‘themes’ were introduced into the Music by the One, when the discords of Melkor arose.) The Valar knew that they would appear, and the great ones knew when and how (though not precisely), but they knew little of their nature, and their foresight, derived from their pre-knowledge of the Design, was imperfect or failed in the matter of the deeds of the Children. The uncorrupted Valar, therefore, yearned for the Children before they came and loved them afterwards, as creatures ‘other’ than themselves, independent of them and their artistry, ‘children’ as being weaker and more ignorant than the Valar, but of equal lineage (deriving being direct from the One); even though under their authority as rulers of Arda. The corrupted, as was Melkor/Morgoth and his followers (of whom Sauron was one of the chief) saw in them the ideal material for subjects and slaves, to whom they could become masters and ‘gods’, envying the Children, and secretly hating them, in proportion as they became rebels against the One (and Man we his Lieutenant in Eä).

  In this mythical ‘prehistory’ immortality, strictly longevity co-extensive with the life of Arda, was part of the given nature of the Elves; beyond the End nothing was revealed. Mortality, that is a short life-span having no relation to the life of Arda, is spoken of as the given nature of Men: the Elves called it the Gift of Ilúvatar (God). But it must be remembered that mythically these tales are Elf-centred,fn78 not anthropocentric, and Men only appear in them, at what must be a point long after their Coming. This is therefore an ‘Elvish’ view, and does not necessarily have anything to say for or against such beliefs as the Christian that ‘death’ is not part of human nature, but a punishment for sin (rebellion), a result of the ‘Fall’. It should be regarded as an Elvish perception of what death – not being tied to the ‘circles of the world’ – should now become for Men, however it arose. A divine ‘punishment’ is also a divine ‘gift’, if accepted, since its object is ultimate blessing, and the supreme inventiveness of the Creator will make ‘punishments’ (that is changes of design) produce a good not otherwise to be attained: a ‘mortal’ Man has probably (an Elf would say) a higher if unrevealed destiny than a longeval one. To attempt by device or ‘magic’ to recover longevity is thus a supreme folly and wickedness of ‘mortals’. Longevity or counterfeit ‘immortality’ (true immortality is beyond Eä) is the chief bait of Sauron – it leads the small to a Gollum, and the great to a Ringwraith.

  In the Elvish legends there is record of a strange case of an Elf (Míriel mother of Feanor) that tried to die, which had disastrous results, leading to the ‘Fall’ of the High-elves. The Elves were not subject to disease, but they could be ‘slain’: that is their bodies could be destroyed, or mutilated so as to be unfit to sustain life. But this did not lead naturally to ‘death’: they were rehabilitated and reborn and eventually recovered memory of all their past: they remained ‘identical’. But Míriel wished to abandon being, and refused rebirth.fn79

  I suppose a difference between this Myth and what may be perhaps called Christian mythology is this. In the latter the Fall of Man is subsequent to and a consequence (though not a necessary consequence) of the ‘Fall of the Angels’: a rebellion of created free-will at a higher level than Man; but it is not clearly held (and in many versions is not held at all) that this affected the ‘World’ in its nature: evil was brought in from outside, by Satan. In this Myth the rebellion of created free-will precedes creation of the World (Eä); and Eä has in it, subcreatively introduced, evil, rebellions, discordant elements of its own nature already when the Let it Be was spoken. The Fall or corruption, therefore, of all things in it and all inhabitants of it, was a possibility if not inevitable. Trees may ‘go bad’ as in the Old Forest; Elves may turn into Ores, and if this required the special perversive malice of Morgoth, still Elves themselves could do evil deeds. Even the ‘good’ Valar as inhabiting the World could at least err; as the Great Valar did in their dealings wit
h the Elves; or as the lesser of their kind (as the Istari or wizards) could in various ways become self-seeking. Aulë, for instance, one of the Great, in a sense ‘fell’; for he so desired to see the Children, that he became impatient and tried to anticipate the will of the Creator. Being the greatest of all craftsmen he tried to make children according to his imperfect knowledge of their kind. When he had made thirteen,fn80 God spoke to him in anger, but not without pity: for Aulë had done this thing not out of evil desire to have slaves and subjects of his own, but out of impatient love, desiring children to talk to and teach, sharing with them the praise of Ilúvatar and his great love of the materials of which the world is made.

  The One rebuked Aulë, saying that he had tried to usurp the Creator’s power; but he could not give independent life to his makings. He had only one life, his own derived from the One, and could at most only distribute it. ‘Behold’ said the One: ‘these creatures of thine have only thy will, and thy movement. Though you have devised a language for them, they can only report to thee thine own thought. This is a mockery of me.’

  Then Aulë in grief and repentance humbled himself and asked for pardon. And he said: ‘I will destroy these images of my presumption, and wait upon thy will.’ And he took a great hammer, raising it to smite the eldest of his images; but it flinched and cowered from him. And as he withheld his stroke, astonished, he heard the laughter of Ilúvatar.

  ‘Do you wonder at this?’ he said. ‘Behold! thy creatures now live, free from thy will! For I have seen thy humility, and taken pity on your impatience. Thy making I have taken up into my design.’

  This is the Elvish legend of the making of the Dwarves; but the Elves report that Ilúvatar said thus also: ‘Nonetheless I will not suffer my design to be forestalled: thy children shall not awake before mine own.’ And he commanded Aulë to lay the fathers of the Dwarves severally in deep places, each with his mate, save Dúrin the eldest who had none. There they should sleep long, until Ilúvatar bade them awake. Nonetheless there has been for the most part little love between the Dwarves and the children of Iluvatar. And of the fate that Ilúvatar has set upon the children of Aulë beyond the Circles of the world Elves and men know nothing, and if Dwarves know they do not speak of it.

  213 From a letter to Deborah Webster

  25 October 1958

  I do not like giving ‘facts’ about myself other than ‘dry’ ones (which anyway are quite as relevant to my books as any other more juicy details). Not simply for personal reasons; but also because I object to the contemporary trend in criticism, with its excessive interest in the details of the lives of authors and artists. They only distract attention from an author’s works (if the works are in fact worthy of attention), and end, as one now often sees, in becoming the main interest. But only one’s guardian Angel, or indeed God Himself, could unravel the real relationship between personal facts and an author’s works. Not the author himself (though he knows more than any investigator), and certainly not so-called ‘psychologists’.

  But, of course, there is a scale of significance in ‘facts’ of this sort. There are insignificant facts (those particularly dear to analysts and writers about writers): such as drunkenness, wife-beating, and suchlike disorders. I do not happen to be guilty of these particular sins. But if I were, I should not suppose that artistic work proceeded from the weaknesses that produced them, but from other and still uncorrupted regions of my being. Modern ‘researchers’ inform me that Beethoven cheated his publishers, and abominably ill-treated his nephew; but I do not believe that has anything to do with his music. Then there are more significant facts, which have some relation to an author’s works; though knowledge of them does not really explain the works, even if examined at length. For instance I dislike French, and prefer Spanish to Italian – but the relation of these facts to my taste in languages (which is obviously a large ingredient in The Lord of the Rings) would take a long time to unravel, and leave you liking (or disliking) the names and bits of language in my books, just as before. And there are a few basic facts, which however drily expressed, are really significant. For instance I was born in 1892 and lived for my early years in ‘the Shire’ in a premechanical age. Or more important, I am a Christian (which can be deduced from my stories), and in fact a Roman Catholic. The latter ‘fact’ perhaps cannot be deduced; though one critic (by letter) asserted that the invocations of Elbereth, and the character of Galadriel as directly described (or through the words of Gimli and Sam) were clearly related to Catholic devotion to Mary. Another saw in waybread (lembas)=viaticum and the reference to its feeding the will (vol. III, p. 213) and being more potent when fasting, a derivation from the Eucharist. (That is: far greater things may colour the mind in dealing with the lesser things of a fairy-story.)

  I am in fact a Hobbit (in all but size). I like gardens, trees and unmechanized farmlands; I smoke a pipe, and like good plain food (unrefrigerated), but detest French cooking; I like, and even dare to wear in these dull days, ornamental waistcoats. I am fond of mushrooms (out of a field); have a very simple sense of humour (which even my appreciative critics find tiresome); I go to bed late and get up late (when possible). I do not travel much. I love Wales (what is left of it, when mines, and the even more ghastly sea-side resorts, have done their worst), and especially the Welsh language. But I have not in fact been in W. for a long time (except for crossing it on the way to Ireland). I go frequently to Ireland (Eire: Southern Ireland) being fond of it and of (most of) its people; but the Irish language I find wholly unattractive. I hope that is enough to go on with.

  214 To A. C. Nunn (draft)

  [A reply to a reader who pointed out an apparent contradiction in The Lord of the Rings: that in the chapter ‘A Long-expected Party’ it is stated that ‘Hobbits give presents to other people on their own birthdays’; yet Gollum refers to the Ring as his ‘birthday present’, and the account of how he acquired it, in the chapter ‘The Shadow of the Past’, indicates that his people received presents on their birthdays. Mr Nunn’s letter continued: ‘Therefore, one of the following must be true: (1) Sméagol’s people were not “of hobbit-kind” as suggested by Gandalf (I p. 62); (2) the Hobbit custom of giving presents was only a recent growth; (3) the customs of the Stoors [Sméagol-Gollum’s people] differed from those of other Hobbits; or (5) [sic] there is an error in the text. I shall be most grateful if you can spare the time to undertake some research into this important matter.]

  [Not dated; probably late 1958-early 1959.]

  Dear Mr Nunn,

  I am not a model of scholarship;1 but in the matter of the Third Age I regard myself as a ‘recorder’ only. The faults that may appear in my record are, I believe, in no case due to errors, that is statements of what is not true, but omissions, and incompleteness of information, mostly due to the necessity of compression, and to the attempt to introduce information en passant in the course of narrative which naturally tended to cut out many things not immediately bearing on the tale.

  In the matter of birthday-customs and the apparent discrepancies that you note, we can therefore, I think, dismiss your alternatives (1) and (5). You omit (4).

  With regard to (1) Gandalf certainly says at first ‘I guess’ p. 62; but that is in accordance with his character and wisdom. In more modern language he would have said ‘I deduce’, referring to matters that had not come under his direct observation, but on which he had formed a conclusion based on study. (You will observe in the Appendix B that the Wizards did not come until shortly before the first appearance of Hobbits in any records, at which time they were already divided into three marked branches.) But he did not in fact doubt his conclusion ‘It is true all the same, etc.’ p. 63.

  Your alternative (2) would be possible; but since the recorder says on p. 35 Hobbits (which he uses whatever its origin, as the name for the whole race), and not the Hobbits of the Shire, or Shire-folk, it must be supposed that he means that the custom of giving presents was in some form common to all varieties, including Stoo
rs. But since your (3) is naturally true, we might expect even so deep-rooted a custom to be exhibited in rather different ways in different branches. With the remigration of the Stoors back to Wilderland in TA 1356, all contact between this retrograde group and the ancestors of the Shirefolk was broken. More than 1100 years elapsed before the Déagol-Sméagol incident (c. 2463). At the time of the Party in TA 3001, when the customs of the Shire-folk are cursorily alluded to insofar as they affect the story, the gap of time was nearly 1650 years.

  All Hobbits were slow to change, but the remigrant Stoors were going back to a wilder and more primitive life of small and dwindlingfn81 communities; while the Shire-folk in the 1400 years of their occupation had developed a more settled and elaborate social life, in which the importance of kinship to their sentiment and customs was assisted by detailed traditions, written and oral.

  Though I omitted any discourse on this curious but characteristic fact of their behaviour, the facts concerning the Shire could be set out in some detail. The riverside Stoors must, naturally, remain more conjectural.

  ‘Birthdays’ had a considerable social importance. A person celebrating his/her birthday was called a ribadyan (which may be rendered according to the system described2 and adopted a byrding3). The customs connected with birthdays had, though deeply rooted, become regulated by fairly strict etiquette; and so in consequence were in many cases reduced to formalities: as indeed suggested by ‘not very expensive ones as a rule’ p. 35; and especially by p. 46 11. 20-26. With regard to presents: on his birthday the ‘byrding’ both gave and received presents; but the processes were different in origin, function, and etiquette. The reception was omitted by the narrator (since it does not concern the Party) but it was in fact the older custom, and therefore the one most formalized. (It does concern the Sméagol-Déagol incident, but the narrator, being obliged to reduce this to its most significant elements, and to put it into the mouth of Gandalf talking to a hobbit, naturally made no comment on a custom which the hobbit (and we) should regard as natural in connexion with birthdays.)