The Letters of J. R. R.Tolkien
Page 43
And the meaning of fine words cannot be made 'obvious', for it is not obvious to any one: least of all to adults, who have stopped listening to the sound because they think they know the meaning. They think argent 'means' silver. But it does not. It and silver have a reference to x or chem. Ag, but in each x is clothed in a totally different phonetic incarnation : x+y or x+z ; and these do not have the same meaning, not only because they sound different and so arouse different responses, but also because they are not in fact used when talking about Ag. in the same way. It is better, I think, at any rate to begin with, to hear 'argent' as a sound only (z without x) in a poetic context, than to think 'it only means silver'. There is some chance then that you may like it for itself, and later learn to appreciate the heraldic overtones it has, in addition to its own peculiar sound, which 'silver' has not.
I think that this writing down, flattening, Bible-in-basic-English attitude is responsible for the fact that so many older children and younger people have little respect and no love for words, and very limited vocabularies – and alas! little desire left (even when they had the gift which has been stultified) to refine or enlarge them.
I am sorry about The Pied Piper. I loathe it. God help the children ! I would as soon give them crude and vulgar plastic toys. Which of course they will play with, to the ruin of their taste. Terrible presage of the most vulgar elements in Disney. But you cannot say that 'it never fails'. You do not really know what is happening, even in the few cases that have come under your observation. It failed with me, even as a child, when I could not yet distinguish the shallow vulgarity of Browning from the general grown-uppishness of things that I was expected to like. The trouble is one does not really know what is going on, even when a child listens with attention, even when it laughs. Children have one thing (only) in common : a lack of experience and if not of discrimination at least of the language in which to express their perceptions; they are still usually acquiescent (outwardly) in their acceptance of the food presented to them by adults. Though they may mentally or actually throw the stuff over the garden wall, and say demurely how much they have enjoyed it. As my children did (they confess) with their suppers in the garden in summer, giving their parents the permanent delusion that they loved jam-sandwiches. I was of course given Hans Andersen when quite young. At one time I listened with attention which may have looked like rapture to his stories when read to me. I read them myself often. Actually I disliked him intensely; and the vividness of that distaste is the chief thing that I carried down the years in connexion with his name.
Surely I am 'childish' enough, and that ought to be enough for real children or any one 'childish' in the same sort of way, and never mind if the old chap knows a lot of jolly words. I send you a little piece of nonsense that I wrote only the other day, as evidence of my childishness. Though I have alas! picked up enough grown-up jargon to write in imitation of my elders; and I might say 'it is a neatly constructed trifle, an amusing attempt to penetrate the elf-childishness of an elf-child, if any such thing existed!' Excuse type. My scrawly hand won't last out a long letter. Don't bother about the 'opinions'. In fact I write as I do, ill or well, because I cannot write otherwise. If it pleases anybody, large or small, I am as much surprised as delighted. God bless you. Very much love.
R.
235 From a letter to Mrs Pauline Gasch (Pauline Baynes)
[Pauline Baynes, who had illustrated Fanner Giles of Ham, had expressed herself willing to provide pictures for The Adventures of Tom Bombadil, and had been reading typescripts of the poems.]
6 December 1961
If I dare say so, the things sent to you (except the Sea-bell, the poorest, and not one that I shd. really wish to include, at least not with the others) were conceived as a series of very definite, clear and precise, pictures – fantastical, or nonsensical perhaps, but not dreamlike! And I thought of you, because you seem able to produce wonderful pictures with a touch of 'fantasy', but primarily bright and clear visions of things that one might really see. Of course what you say about 'illustrations' in general is very true, and I once (in a long essay on 'Fairy-Stories') ventured at greater length but no more precisely than you, to say much the same. But there is a case for illustration (or decoration!) applied to small things such as these verses, which are light-hearted, and (I think) dexterous in words, but not very profound in intention. I suppose one would also have to except 'The Hoard' from being 'light-heaned', though the woes of the successive (nameless) inheritors are seen merely as pictures in a tapestry of antiquity and do not deeply engage individual pity. I was most interested by your choice of this as your favourite. For it is the least fluid, being written in [a] mode rather resembling the oldest English verse — and was in fact inspired by a single line of ancient verse: iúmonna gold galdre bewunden, 'the gold of men of long ago enmeshed in enchantment' (Beowulf 3052). But I do appreciate that it is a tricky task! I hope you may feel inclined to attempt it. Alas! you put your finger unerringly on a main difficulty: they are not a unity from any point of view, but made at different times under varying inspiration. I have not much doubt, however, that you would avoid the Scylla of Blyton and the Charybdis of Rackham – though to go to wreck on the latter would be the less evil fate.
236 To Rayner Unwin
[Tolkien received a copy of the Puffin Books edition of The Hobbit in September 1961, but did not look at it until December.]
30 December 1961
76 Sandfield Road, Headington, Oxford
Dear Rayner,
.... I wish well-meaning folk who think they know could be restrained! I had occasion a day or two ago to look up a passage in The Hobbit, and the 'puffin' lying to hand, I looked it up there. So I discovered that one of this breed had been busy again. Penguin Books had, I suppose, no licence to edit my work, and should have reproduced faithfully the printed copy; and at least out of courtesy to Allen and Unwin and myself should have addressed some enquiry before they proceeded to correct the text.
Dwarves, dwarves', dwarvish have been corrected throughout (with one exception on p. 21) to the current dictionary forms dwarfs, dwarfs', dwarfish. Elvish, elvish has been changed to Elfish, elfish 7 times but left unchanged 3 times. I view this procedure with dudgeon. I deliberately used dwarves etc. for a special purpose and effect – that it has an effect can be gauged by comparing the passages with the substitutes dwarfs, especially in verse. The point is dealt with in L.R. iii, p. 415. Of course I do not expect compositors or proof-readers to know that, or to know anything about the history of the word 'dwarf'; but I should have thought it might have occurred, if not to a compositor at least to a reader, that the author would not have used consistently getting on for 300 times a particular form, nor would your readers have passed it, if it was a mere casual mistake in 'grammar'.
Dwarfs etc. is of course the only recognized modern form of the plural; but the (inconsistent) correction of elvish has not even that excuse. The older and 'historical' form elvish is still recognized, and appears even in such popular dictionaries as the 'Pocket Oxford'. I suppose I should be grateful that Cox and Wyman have not inflicted the change from elven to elfin and further to farther on me which Jarrolds attempted, but Jarrolds were at least dealing with a MS. that had a good many casual errors in it. I believe there is only one error remaining in the text from which the Puffin was printed: like for likes (6th imp. p. 85 line 1; Puffin p. 76, line 23). This crept in in the 6th imp. I think. Not that Gollum would miss the chance of a sibilant! Puffin has not emended it. I suppose Gollum was regarded as 'without the law' and immune from the dictates of dictionaries or 'house-rules'. Not so the narrator.
Apart from this the errors appear to be few. I have noted: waiting is omitted before/or (puffin p. 32/11). ahead appears as head (p. 87/5 from bottom). There is an inverted g in examining (p. 225/2 from bottom). And oubht, bood appear for ought and good on p. 228.
I am sorry to inflict such nigglings on you (I am a natural niggler, alas!) which will not seem to anyone else as
important as they do to me; and nothing can be done about them now, anyway. Though Penguin Books might be informed that they have not passed unobserved. In fact I do not think that I should have signed a copy for Sir Allen Lane, if I had observed them before. I feel inclined to tell him so, and offer to emend the copy in my own fair hand, if he will return it!
This is a Fell Winter indeed, and I am expecting White Wolves to cross the river. At present dead calm reigns, as the only car to appear in my road slid backwards downhill and disappeared. There is small chance of this reaching you tomorrow Jan. 1 to wish you a Happy New Year. I hope you have plenty of food in store! It is my birthday on Jan. 3rd, and I look like spending it in the isolation of a house turned igloo; but the companionship of several bottles of what has turned out a most excellent burgundy (since I helped to select it in its infancy) will no doubt mitigate that: Clos de Tan 1949, just at its top. With that hobbit-like note I will close, wishing you and your wife and children all blessings in 1962.
Yours ever,
Ronald Tolkien.
P.S. Will you please thank Miss M. J. Hill (and yourself) for the copy of School Magazine Nov. 1961 (N. S. Wales) containing the Hobbit extract and the article 'Something Special'. I thought the latter was well written for its purpose..... But alas! faced with actual stories people are always more ready to believe in learning and arcane knowledge than in invention, especially if they are bemused by the title 'professor'. There are no songs or stories preserved about Elves or Dwarfs in ancient English, and little enough in any other Germanic language. Words, a few names, that is about all. I do not recall any Dwarf or Elf that plays an actual pan in any story save Andvari in the Norse versions of the Nibelung matter. There is no story attached to the name Eikinskjaldi, save the one that I invented for Thorin Oakenshield. As far as old English goes 'dwarf' (dweorg) is a mere gloss for nanus, or the name of convulsions and recurrent fevers; and 'elf we should suppose to be associated only with rheumatism, toothache and nightmares, if it were not for the occurrence of aelfsciene 'elven-fair' applied to Sarah and Judith!, and a few glosses such as dryades, wuduelfen. In all Old English poetry 'elves' (ylte) occurs once only, in Beowulf, associated with trolls, giants, and the Undead, as the accursed offspring of Cain. The gap between that and, say, Elrond or Galadriel is not bridged by learning. Now you will feel this letter has become a pamphlet or a new year garland! But you have a w[aste] p[aper] b[asket] I suppose, at least as capacious as mine. JRRT.
237 From a letter to Rayner Unwin
12 April 1962
I have given every moment that I could spare to the 'poems', in spite of the usual obstacles, and some new ones.
I am afraid that I have lost all confidence in these things, and all judgement, and unless Pauline Baynes can be inspired by them, I cannot see them making a 'book'. I do not see why she should be inspired, though I fervently hope that she will be. Some of the things may be good in their way, and all of them privately amuse me; but elderly hobbits are easily pleased.
The various items — all that I now venture to offer, some with misgiving – do not really 'collect'. The only possible link is the fiction that they come from the Shire from about the period of The Lord of the Rings. But that fits some uneasily. I have done a good deal of work, trying to make them fit better: if not much to their good, I hope not to their serious detriment. You may note that I have written a new Bombadil poem, which I hope is adequate to go with the older one, though for its understanding it requires some knowledge of the L.R. At any rate it performs the service of further 'integrating' Tom with the world of the L.R. into which he was inserted.88 I am afraid it largely tickles my pedantic fancy, because of its echo of the Norse Niblung matter (the otter's whisker) ; and because one of the lines comes straight, incredible though that may seem, from The Ancrene Wisse.....
Some kind of foreword might possibly be required. The enclosed is not intended for that purpose! Though one or two of its points might be made more simply. But I found it easier, and more amusing (for myself) to represent to you in the form of a ridiculous editorial fiction what I have done to the verses, and what their references now are. Actually, although a fiction, the relative age, order of writing, and references of the items are pretty nearly represented as they really were.
I hope you are not greatly disappointed by my efforts.
238 From a letter to Jane Neave
[Tolkien's aunt appears to have suggested that she return a cheque he had sent her, so that the money could be spent on buying a wheelchair for Tolkien's wife Edith, who was suffering from arthritis.]
18 July l962
As for your noble and self-sacrificing suggestion. Cash the cheque, please! And spend it. One cannot attach conditions to a gift; but I should be best pleased, if it was spent soon, and on yourself. It is a very small sum. Taken only from my present abundance, over and above the needs of Edith and myself, and of my children. Edith happily does not need a chair; and I could give her one if she did. (It is an astonishing situation, and I hope I am sufficiently grateful to God. Only a little while ago I was wondering if we should be able to go on living here, on my inadequate pension. I have never been able to give before, and I have received unrepayable gifts in the past. .... I receive as a septuagenarian a retirement pension, of which I feel it proper to give away at least what the Tax collectors leave in my hands (a National one, I mean: I refused the University pension, and took the lump sum and invested it in a trust managed by my bank). All this, simply to assure you that the little gift was a personal pleasure, hardly worthy of much thanks; also to assure you that I can help more if needed. Saving universal catastrophe, I am not likely to be hard up again in my time. This is the advice of a very shrewd old publisher. Also I gather that he told Edmund Fuller that my books were the most important, and also the most profitable thing that he had published in a long life, and that they would certainly remain so after his time and his sons' time. (This is just for you: it is unwise to advertise still more to boast of good fortune, as all Fairy-stories teach. So say nout. I do not want to wake up one morning and find it all
a dream!)....
I am glad to say that we are both rather better this year. .... I had some treatment last September, and have been more or less free and easy on the legs since, though my usual lumbago afflicted me in June. Edith is markedly better this year; and we managed a train journey to Bournemouth in July (2nd to 9th). Diet has done much good. We should have to reorganize life altogether if she was reduced to a chair! She does all the cooking, most of the housework, and some of the gardening. I am afraid that this often means rather heroic effort; but of course, within limits, that is beneficial. Still it is hard being attacked in two different ways at once – or three. Great increase in weight due to operations. Arthritis, which is made more painful and acute by the weight; and an internal complaint, small internal lesions (I gather), which cause pain, often incalculably, either by strain, or vibration, or by digestive irritations. Still we accepted this verdict more or less gratefully, after she had spent some time in a nursing home 'for observation' (ominous words).
We lost our 'help', because of ill health, that we had had for about eight years, last autumn. If ever you pray for temporal blessings for us, my dear, ask for the near-miracle of finding some help. Oxford is probably one of the hardest places even in this England, to find such a thing.
The book of poems is going along. Pauline Baynes has accepted the contract and is now beginning on the illustration. The publishers certainly intend it for Christmas. I have done my part.
At the moment I am engaged on putting into order, with notes and brief preface, my translation of Sir Gawain and of Pearl, before returning to my major work the Silmarillion. The Pearl is another poem in the same MS as Sir Gawain. Neither has any author's name attached; but I believe (as do most others) that they are by the same person. The Pearl is much the more difficult to translate, largely for metrical reasons ; but being attracted by apparently insoluble metrical problems, I start
ed to render it years ago. Some stanzas were actually broadcast, in the late 1920s. I finished it, more or less, before the war; and it disappeared under the weight of the War, and of The Lord of the Rings. The poem is very well-known to mediævalists; but I never agreed to the view of scholars that the metrical form was almost impossibly difficult to write in, and quite impossible to render in modern English. NO scholars (or, nowadays, poets) have any experience in composing themselves in exacting metres. I made up a few stanzas in the metre to show that composition in it was not at any rate 'impossible' (though the result might today be thought bad). The original Pearl was more difficult: a translator is not free, and this text is very hard in itself, often obscure, partly from the thought and style, and partly from the corruptions of the only surviving MS.
As these things interest you, I send you the original stanzas of my own – related inevitably as everything was at one time with my own mythology. I will send you a copy of the Pearl, as soon as I can get a carbon copy made. It has 101 twelve-line stanzas. It is (I think) evidently inspired by the loss in infancy of a little daughter. It is thus in a sense an elegy; but the author uses the then fashionable (it was contemporary with Chaucer) dream-framework, and uses the occasion to discuss his own theological views about salvation. Though not all acceptable to modern taste, it has moments of poignancy; and though it may in our view be absurdly complex in technical form, the poet surmounts his own obstacles on the whole with success. The stanzas have twelve lines, with only three rhymes: an octet of four couplets rhyming a b, and a quartet rhyming b c. In addition each line has internal alliteration (it occasionally but rarely fails in the original; the version is inevitably less rich). And if that is not enough, the poem is divided into fives. Within a five-stanza group the chief word of the last line must be echoed in the first line of the following stanza; the last line of the five-group is echoed at the beginning of the next; and the first line of all is to wind up echoed in the last line of all. But oddly enough there are not 100 stanzas, but 101. In group XV there are six stanzas. It has long been supposed that one of these was an uncancelled revision. But there are also 101 stanzas in Sir Gawain. The number was evidently aimed at, though what its significance was for the author has not been discovered. The grouping by fives also connects the poem with Gawain, where the poet elaborates the significance: the Five Wounds, the Five Joys, the Five virtues, and the Five wits.