The Letters of J. R. R.Tolkien
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332 To Michael Tolkien
[Merton College, of which Tolkien had been a Fellow from 1945 to 1959, had offered him accommodation now that his home in Poole was being given up.]
24 January 1972
West Hanney
Dearest Mick,
.... I think the news will comfort and please you. By an act of great generosity – in spite of great internal difficulties – Merton has now provided [me] with a very excellent flat, which will probably accommodate the bulk of my surviving 'library'. But wholly unexpected 'strings' are attached to this! (1) The rent will be 'merely nominal' — which means what it implies: something extremely small in comparison with actual market-value; (2) All or any furniture required will be provided free by the college – and a large Wilton carpet has already been assigned to me, covering the whole floor of a sitting room having nearly the same floor-space as our big s[itting]-r[oom] at 19 Lakeside Road (it is a little shorter and a little broader). (3) Since 21 M[erton] St. is legally pan of the college, domestic service is provided free: in the shape of a resident care-taker and his wife as housekeeper: (4) I am entitled to free lunch and dinner throughout the year when in residence: both of a very high standard. This represents – allowing 9 weeks absence – an actual emolument of between £750 and £900 a year from which the claws of the I. Taxgatherers have so far been driven off. (5) The college will provide free of rent two telephones: (a) for local calls, and calls to extensions, which ire free, and (b) for long distance calls, which will have a private number and be paid by me. This will have the advantage that business and private calls to family and friends will not pass through the overworked lodge; but it will have the one snag that it will have to appear in the Telephone book, and cannot be ex-directory. But I had already found in Poole that the disadvantages of an ex-directory number (which are considerable) really outweigh its protection. If it proves a nuisance I shall have a telephone answerer installed, that can be switched on at need. (6) No rates, and gas and electricity bills at a reduced scale; (7) The use of 2 beautiful common-rooms (at a distance of 100 yards) with free writing paper, free newspapers, and mid-morning coffee. It all sounds too good to be true – and of course it all depends on my health : for it has, quite justly and rightly, been pointed out to me that it is only my apparent good health and mobility for my age that makes this arrangement possible. I do not myself feel very secure on this point since my illness in October (in which in a week or so I lost over a stone), that did not really lose its head until after Christmas. But the feeling of insecurity is possibly (and I hope) due mainly to the maiming effect of the bereavement we have suffered. I do not feel quite 'real' or whole, and in a sense there is no one to talk to. (You share this, of course, especially in the matter of letters.) Since I came of age, and our 3 years separation was ended, we had shared all joys and griefs, and all opinions (in agreement or otherwise), so that I still often find myself thinking 'I must tell E. about this' – and then suddenly I feel like a castaway left on a barren island under a heedless sky after the loss of a great ship. I remember trying to tell Marjorie Incledon this feeling, when I was not yet thirteen after the death of my mother (Nov. 9. 1904), and vainly waving a hand at the sky saying 'it is so empty and cold'. And again I remember after the death of Fr Francis my 'second father' (at 77 in 1934)130, saying to C. S. Lewis: 'I feel like a lost survivor into a new alien world after the real world has passed away.' But of course these griefs however poignant (especially the first) came in youth with life and work still unfolding. In 1904 we (H[ilary] & I) had the sudden miraculous experience of Fr Francis' love and care and humour – and only 5 years later (the equiv. of 20 years experience in later life) I met the Lúthien Tinúviel of my own personal 'romance' with her long dark hair, fair face and starry eyes, and beautiful voice. And in 1934 she was still with me, and her beautiful children. But now she has gone before Beren, leaving him indeed one-handed, but he has no power to move the inexorable Mandos, and there is no Dor Gyrth i chuinar, the Land of the Dead that Live, in this Fallen Kingdom of Arda, where the servants of Morgoth are worshipped. ....
333 To Rayner Unwin Merton College
16 March 1972
Dear R.
Everything you do for me fills me with gratitude.
I am now at last since Tuesday, IN but not 'settled' in. The weather (which seems a slice of our normal 'wedding-day weather' come too early) contributes to my comfort. The great bank in the Fellows' Garden looks like the foreground of a pre-Raphaelite picture: blazing green starred like the Milky Way with blue anemones, purple/white/yellow crocuses, and final surprise, clouded-yellow, peacock, and tortoiseshell butterflies flitting about.
I hope in less than a week's time to have ordered my 'flat', except for the last labour — recalling my library from store. I have a faint hope that perhaps you and your wife could soon pick a fine day and visit me.
Excuse scrawl.
Yours ever
J. R. R. T.
334 To Rayner Unwin
[Tolkien received the C.B.E. at Buckingham Palace on 28 March 1972. Rayner Unwin held a dinner in his honour at the Garrick Club, and Allen & Unwin put him up at Brown's Hotel in London.]
30 March 1972
Merton College
My dear Rayner,
I cannot thank you adequately for your kindness and generosity, on my own behalf and for John and Priscilla, for all that you did for us to make March 27th and 28th both memorable and delightful.
I enjoyed the party immensely, not least because as I looked round everyone else seemed to be doing so too. I slept peacefully (in the great comfort of Brown's), but briefly, waking at 6 a.m. to hear wind and rain; but feeling my luck to be in, I was not surprised to have brilliant sunshine for the occasion.
Owing to the skill and kindness of your driver both journeys were accomplished without hitch. Inside the Palace the ceremonies were, especially for 'recipients', accompanied by some tedium (with a few touches of the comic). But I was very deeply moved by my brief meeting with the Queen, & our few words together. Quite unlike anything that I had expected. But I will say no more about that now. Perhaps I shall have a chance of seeing you, while the memory is fresh?....
Yours ever
Ronald Tolkien.
Would it be possible for you to use my Christian name? I am now accepted as a member of the community here – one of the habits of which has long been the use of Christian names, irrespective of age or office — and as you are now a v. old friend, and a very dear one, I should much like also to be a 'familiaris'. R.
335 From a letter to Michael Salmon
18 May 1972
Thank you for your most kind letter and for your general interest in my work. I am however now an old man struggling to finish some of his work. Every extra task however small diminishes my chance of ever publishing The Silmarillion. So I hope you will understand why I feel it impossible to spend time making any comments on myself or my works.
336 From a letter to Sir Patrick Browne
23 May 1972
Being a cult figure in one's own lifetime I am afraid is not at all pleasant. However I do not find that it tends to puff one up; in my case at any rate it makes me feel extremely small and inadequate. But even the nose of a very modest idol (younger than Chu-Bu and not much older than Sheemish) cannot remain entirely untickled by the sweet smell of incense!
337 From a letter to 'Mr Wrigley'
25 May 1972
I fear you may be right that the search for the sources of The Lord of the Rings is going to occupy academics for a generation or two. I wish this need not be so. To my mind it is the particular use in a particular situation of any motive, whether invented, deliberately borrowed, or unconsciously remembered that is the most interesting thing to consider.
338 From a letter to Fr. Douglas Carter
[Answering the question: did the Ents ever find the Entwives?]
6[?] June 1972
As for the Entwives: I do not know. I have written nothing
beyond the first few years of the Fourth Age. (Except the beginning of a tale supposed to refer to the end of the reign of Eldaron about 100 years after the death of Aragorn. Then I of course discovered that the King's Peace would contain no tales worth recounting; and his wars would have little interest after the overthrow of Sauron; but that almost certainly a restlessness would appear about then, owing to the (it seems) inevitable boredom of Men with the good: there would be secret societies practising dark cults, and 'orc-cults' among adolescents.) But I think in Vol. II pp. 80-81 it is plain that there would be for Ents no re-union in 'history' — but Ents and their wives being rational creatures would find some 'earthly paradise' until the end of this world: beyond which the wisdom neither of Elves nor Ents could see. Though maybe they shared the hope of Aragorn that they were 'not bound for ever to the circles of the world and beyond them is more than memory.'....
In dealing with Greek I feel like a renegade, resident wilfully for long years among 'barbarians', though I once knew something about it. Yet I prefer Latin. I feel like Theodore Haecker – or like an eminent philologist (Bazell) once a pupil of mine who is now expert in such 'barbaric' tongues as Turkish, who once wrote to me about some language recently discovered: 'It is of a kind that you and I both feel to be normal, in a central human mode – it indeed resembles Latin.'
339 To the Editor of the Daily Telegraph
[In a leader in the Daily Telegraph of 29 June 1972, entitled 'Forestry and Us', there occurred this passage: 'Sheepwalks where you could once ramble for miles are transformed into a kind of Tolkien gloom, where no bird sings...' Tolkien's letter was published, with a slight alteration to the opening sentence, in the issue of 4 July.]
30 June 1972
Merton College, Oxford
Dear Sir,
With reference to the Daily Telegraph of June 29th, page 18,1 feel that it is unfair to use my name as an adjective qualifying 'gloom', especially in a context dealing with trees. In all my works I take the pan of trees as against all their enemies. Lothlórien is beautiful because there the trees were loved; elsewhere forests are represented as awakening to consciousness of themselves. The Old Forest was hostile to two legged creatures because of the memory of many injuries. Fangorn Forest was old and beautiful, but at the time of the story tense with hostility because it was threatened by a machine-loving enemy. Mirkwood had fallen under the domination of a Power that hated all living things but was restored to beauty and became Greenwood the Great before the end of the story.
It would be unfair to compare the Forestry Commission with Sauron because as you observe it is capable of repentance; but nothing it has done that is stupid compares with the destruction, torture and murder of trees perpetrated by private individuals and minor official bodies. The savage sound of the electric saw is never silent wherever trees are still found growing.
Yours faithfully,
J. R. R. Tolkien.
340 From a letter to Christopher Tolkien
11 July 1972
I have at last got busy about Mummy's grave. .... The inscription I should like is:
EDITH MARY TOLKIEN
1889-1971
Lúthien
: brief and jejune, except for Lúthien, which says for me more than a multitude of words: for she was (and knew she was) my Lúthien.131
July 13. Say what you feel, without reservation, about this addition. I began this under the stress of great emotion & regret – and in any case I am afflicted from time to time (increasingly) with an overwhelming sense of bereavement. I need advice. Yet I hope none of my children will feel that the use of this name is a sentimental fancy. It is at any rate not comparable to the quoting of pet names in obituaries. I never called Edith Lúthien – but she was the source of the story that in time became the chief pan of the Silmarillion. It was first conceived in a small woodland glade filled with hemlocks at Roos in Yorkshire (where I was for a brief time in command of an outpost of the Humber Garrison in 1917, and she was able to live with me for a while). In those days her hair was raven, her skin clear, her eyes brighter than you have seen them, and she could sing – and dance. But the story has gone crooked, & I am left, and I cannot plead before the inexorable Mandos.
I will say no more now. But I should like ere long to have a long talk with you. For if as seems probable I shall never write any ordered biography – it is against my nature, which expresses itself about things deepest felt in tales and myths — someone close in heart to me should know something about things that records do not record: the dreadful sufferings of our childhoods, from which we rescued one another, but could not wholly heal the wounds that later often proved disabling; the sufferings that we endured after our love began – all of which (over and above our personal weaknesses) might help to make pardonable, or understandable, the lapses and darknesses which at times marred our lives — and to explain how these never touched our depths nor dimmed our memories of our youthful love. For ever (especially when alone) we still met in the woodland glade, and went hand in hand many times to escape the shadow of imminent death before our last parting.
15 July. I spent yesterday at Hemel Hempstead. A car was sent for me & I went to the great new (grey and white) offices and book-stores of Allen & Unwin. To this I paid a kind of official visitation, like a minor royalty, and was somewhat startled to discover the main business of all this organization of many departments (from Accountancy to Despatch) was dealing with my works. I was given a great welcome (& v.g. lunch) and interviewed them all from board-room downwards. 'Accountancy' told me that the sales of The Hobbit were now rocketing up to hitherto unreached heights. Also a large single order for copies of The L.R. had just come in. When I did not show quite the gratified surprise expected I was gently told that a single order of 100 copies used to be pleasing (and still is for other books), but this one for The L.R. was for 6,000.
341 From a letter to Marjorie Incledon
17 September 1972
I feel the truth (now very much) of what you say about the desire, indeed necessity, of escaping from 'community life', at intervals. The college has treated me with the greatest kindness and generosity: they have provided me with a beautiful flat with 2 large rooms & a bathroom in one of their houses in Merton Street, which has a caretaker (and his wife) who look after my domestic needs. They have made me a residential Emeritus Fellow with all the privileges of a Fellow (such as free lunch & dinner at the common table) but no duties. I am as far as they are concerned purely 'ornamental'. The Fellow and members of Common Room are now 3 times as many, and their standard has risen v. greatly since I was an active Fellow (1945-59) : they cover almost all branches of learning & science, and are nearly all (in various degrees) very good companions, though mostly very hard-working and busy. Nonetheless -1 often feel very lonely, and long for a change! After term (sc. when the undergraduates depart) I am all alone in a large house with only the caretaker & his wife far below in a basement, and since I am (especially on my return to Oxford) a marked man, and troubled with many intruders and some nefarious persons, I live behind locked doors.
I have managed to get away occasionally. And I am, of course, 'legally' able to go and come as I wish. But I do have some obligations of courtesy as a Fellow (and of gratitude for my rescue from the despair of my situation in Jan. & Feb) : and one of the chief of these occasions is the meeting of all the Fellows on the Wednesday before Full Term in October (this year October 11th before Oct. 15th). I had already assured the Warden of my presence on Oct. 11, before I received your letter. If I seem to have prolonged the uncertainty too long, do forgive me! I am very fortunate132, but I am not in fact yet 'happily settled': I am still in considerable confusion.
342 From a letter to Mrs Meriel Thurston
9 November 1972
I am honoured by your letter, and quite willing that you should use the name of Rivendell as a herd prefix, though in my ignorance I don't think the actual valley of Rivendell would have been suitable for herd breeding.
> I should be interested to hear what names you eventually choose (as individual names?) for your bulls; and interested to choose or invent suitable names myself if you wish. The elvish word for 'bull' doesn't appear in any published work; it was MUNDO.
343 From a letter to Sterling Lanier
21 November 1972
I am glad to know that you were awarded a prize, but not surprised that it proved useless. I had a similar disappointment when a drinking goblet arrived (from a fan) which proved to be of steel engraved with the terrible words seen on the Ring. I of course have never drunk from it, but use it for tobacco ash.
344 From a letter to Edmund Meskys
[On the subject of numerals in The Lord of the Rings.]
23 November 1972
With regard to the numerals: the use of duodecimals, especially such main figures as 12 and 144, has no reference to fingers at all. The English use duodecimals and have special words for them, namely dozen and gross. The Babylonians used duodecimals. This is due to the elementary mathematical discovery, as soon as people stop counting on their fingers and toes, that 12 is a much more convenient number than 10. I did devise numeral signs to go with the Fëanorian alphabet accommodated to both a decimal nomenclature and a duodecimal, but I have never used them and no longer hold an accurate memory of them. I am afraid the folder containing the numeral systems is not available and may be locked away in a strongroom. I remember that the numerals were written according to a positional system like the Arabic, beginning at the left with the lowest number and rising to the highest on the right.