The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien

by Humphrey Carpenter

  Yours sincerely

  J. R. R. Tolkien

  14 To Allen & Unwin

  [The publishers had suggested to Tolkien that The Hobbit should be published in October 1937, just after the beginning of the Michaelmas Term at Oxford. They also told him that they had forwarded his letter about illustrations (no. 13) to the Houghton Mifflin Company of Boston, Massachusetts, who were to publish the book in America.]

  28 May 1937

  20 Northmoor Road, Oxford

  Dear Sirs,

  . . . . Date of publication. This is, of course, your business, and entails many considerations outside my knowledge. In any case the final decision is now, I suppose, made; and America has also to be considered. But as far as G.B. is concerned, I cannot help thinking that you are possibly mistaken in taking Oxford University and its terms into account; and alternatively, if you do, in considering early October better than June. Most of O.U. will take no interest in such a story; that part of it that will is already clamouring, and indeed beginning to add The Hobbit to my long list of never-never procrastinations. As far as ‘local interest’ is concerned it is probably at its peak (not that at its best it will amount to much reckoned in direct sales, I imagine). In any case late June between the last preparations for exams and the battle with scripts (affecting only a minority of seniors) is a quiescent interlude, when lighter reading is sought, for immediate use and for the vacation. October with the inrush of a new academic year is most distracted.

  Mr Lewis of Magdalen,1 who reviews for the Times Literary Supplement, tells me that he has already written urging a review and claiming the book as a specialist in fairy-stories; and he is now disgruntled because he will get ‘juveniles’ that he does not want, while the Hobbit will not reach him until the vacation is over, and will have to wait till December to be read & written up properly. Also if the book had been available before the university disintegrates I could have got my friend the editor of the O.U. Magazine,2 who has been giving it a good dose of my dragon-lore recently, to allocate it and get a review at the beginning of the autumn term. However, I say these things too late I expect. In any case I do not suppose it makes in the long run a great deal of difference. I have only one personal motive in regretting this delay: and that is that I was anxious that it should appear as soon as possible, because I am under research-contract since last October, and not supposed to be indulging in exams or in ‘frivolities’. The further we advance into my contract time, the more difficulty I shall have (and I have already had some) in pretending that the work belongs wholly to the period before October 1936. I shall now find it very hard to make people believe that this is not the major fruits of ‘research’ 1936–7!

  Houghton Mifflin Co. I was perturbed to learn that my letter had been sent across the water. It was not intended for American consumption unedited: I should have expressed myself rather differently. I now feel even greater hesitation in posing further as an illustrator. . . . . However, I enclose three coloured ‘pictures’.3 I cannot do much better, and if their standard is too low, the H.M.Co can say so at once and without offence, as long as they send them back. These are casual and careless pastime products, illustrating other stories. Having publication in view I could possibly improve the standard a little, make drawings rather bolder in colour & less messy and fussy in detail (and also larger). The Mirkwood picture is much the same as the plate in the Hobbit, but illustrates a different adventure. I think if the H.M.Co wish me to proceed I should leave that black and grey plate and do four other scenes. I will try my hand at them as soon as possible, which is not likely to be before their verdict arrives, if cabled . . .

  Yours truly,

  J. R. R. Tolkien.

  15 To Allen & Unwin

  [Enclosed with this letter was a coloured version of the drawing ‘The Hill: Hobbiton-across-the-Water’. Tolkien had already sent four new coloured drawings: ‘Rivendell’, ‘Bilbo woke with the early sun in his eyes’, ‘Bilbo comes to the Huts of the Raft-elves’, and ‘Conversation with Smaug’. All of these except the ‘Huts of the Raft-elves’ were used in the first American edition, and all except ‘Bilbo woke with the early sun in his eyes’ were added to the second British impression.]

  31 August 1937

  20 Northmoor Road, Oxford

  Dear Mr Furth,

  I send herewith the coloured version of the frontispiece. If you think it good enough, you may send it on to the Houghton Mifflin Co. Could you at the same time make it finally clear to them (it does not seem easy): that the first three drawings were not illustrations to ‘the Hobbit’, but only samples: they cannot be used for that book, and may now be returned. Also that the ensuing five drawings (four and now one) were specially made for the H.M.Co, and for ‘the Hobbit’. They are, of course, at liberty to reject or use all or any of these five. But I would point out that they are specially selected so as to distribute illustration fairly evenly throughout the book (especially when taken in conjunction with the black-and-white drawings).

  I suppose no question of remuneration arises? I have no consciousness of merit (though the labour was considerable), and I imagine that the ‘gratis’ quality of my efforts compensates for other defects. But I gathered that the H.M.Co’s original terms simply covered ‘The Hobbit’, as you produced it, and that they then proposed to top up with coloured pictures, as a selling attraction of their own, employing good American artists. They would have had to pay these independently. At the moment I am in such difficulties (largely owing to medical expenses) that even a very small fee would be a blessing. Would it be possible to suggest (when they have decided if they want any of these things) that a small financial consideration would be gracious?

  Perhaps you will advise me, or tell me where I get off? I need hardly say that such an idea only occurs to me with regard to the Americans – who have given a lot of unnecessary trouble. Even if I did not know that your production costs have been excessive (and that I have been hard on proofs), you are most welcome at any time to anything you think I can do, in the way of drawing or redrawing, that is fit to use on The Hobbit.

  I hope Mr Baggins will eventually come to my rescue – in a moderate way (I do not expect pots of troll-gold). I am beginning to have hopes that the publishers (vide jacket) may be justified.1 I have had two testimonials recently, which promise moderately well. For one thing Professor Gordon2 has actually read the book (supposed to be a rare event); and assures me that he will recommend it generally and to the Book Society. I may warn you that his promises are usually generous – but his judgement, at any rate, is pretty good. Professor Chambers3 writes very enthusiastically, but he is an old and kindhearted friend. The most valuable is the document I enclose, in case it may interest you: a letter from R. Meiggs (at present editing the Oxford Magazine). He has no reason for sparing my feelings, and is usually a plain speaker. Of course, he has no connexions with reviewing coteries, and is virtually a mere member of the avuncular public.

  Yours sincerely

  J. R. R. Tolkien.

  P.S. I enclose also a commentary on the jacket-flap words for your perusal at leisure – if you can read it.

  [When The Hobbit was published on 21 September 1937, Allen & Unwin printed the following remarks on the jacket-flap: ‘J. R. R. Tolkien. . . . has four children and The Hobbit. . . . was read aloud to them in nursery days. . . . . The manuscript. . . . was lent to friends in Oxford and read to their children. . . . . The birth of The Hobbit recalls very strongly that of Alice in Wonderland. Here again a professor of an abstruse subject is at play.’ Tolkien now sent the following commentary on these remarks.]

  By the way. I meant some time ago to comment on the additional matter that appears on the jacket. I don’t suppose it is a very important item in launching The Hobbit (while that book is only one minor incident in your concerns); so I hope you will take the ensuing essay in good part, and allow me the pleasure of explaining things (the professor will out), even if it does not appear useful.

  I am
in your hands, if you think that is the right note. Strict truth is, I suppose, not necessary (or even desirable). But I have a certain anxiety lest the H.M.Co seize upon the words and exaggerate the inaccuracy to falsehood. And reviewers are apt to lean on hints. At least I am when performing that function.

  Nursery: I have never had one, and the study has always been the place for such amusements. In any case is the age-implication right? I should have said ‘the nursery’ ended about 8 when children go forth to school. That is too young. My eldest boy was thirteen when he heard the serial. It did not appeal to the younger ones who had to grow up to it successively.

  Lent: we must pass that (though strictly it was forced on the friends by me). The MS. certainly wandered about, but it was not, as far as I know, ever read to children, and only read by one child (a girl of 12–13), before Mr Unwin tried it out.

  Abstruse: I do not profess an ‘abstruse’ subject – not qua ‘Anglo-Saxon’. Some folk may think so, but I do not like encouraging them. Old English and Icelandic literature are no more remote from human concerns, or difficult to acquire cheaply, than commercial Spanish (say). I have tried both. In any case – except for the runes (Anglo-Saxon) and the dwarf-names (Icelandic), neither used with antiquarian accuracy, and both regretfully substituted to avoid abstruseness for the genuine alphabets and names of the mythology into which Mr Baggins intrudes – I am afraid my professional knowledge is not directly used. The magic and mythology and assumed ‘history’ and most of the names (e.g. the epic of the Fall of Gondolin) are, alas!, drawn from unpublished inventions, known only to my family, Miss Griffiths1 and Mr Lewis. I believe they give the narrative an air of ‘reality’ and have a northern atmosphere. But I wonder whether one should lead the unsuspecting to imagine it all comes out of the ‘old books’, or tempt the knowing to point out that it does not?

  ‘Philology’ – my real professional bag of tricks – may be abstruse, and perhaps more comparable to Dodgson’s maths. So the real parallel (if one exists: I feel very much that it breaks down if examined)fn1 lies in the fact that both these technical subjects in any overt form are absent. The only philological remark (I think) in The Hobbit is on p. 221 (lines 6–7 from end):2 an odd mythological way of referring to linguistic philosophy, and a point that will (happily) be missed by any who have not read Barfield3 (few have), and probably by those who have. I am afraid this stuff of mine is really more comparable to Dodgson’s amateur photography, and his song of Hiawatha’s failure than to Alice.

  Professor: a professor at play rather suggests an elephant in its bath – as Sir Walter Raleigh4 said of Professor Jo Wright in a sportive mood at a viva.5 Strictly (I believe) Dodgson was not a ‘professor’, but a college lecturer – though he was kind to my kind in making the ‘professor’ the best character (unless you prefer the mad gardener) in Sylvie & Bruno. Why not ‘student’? The word has the added advantage that Dodgson’s official status was Student of Christ Church. If you think it good, and fair (the compliment to The Hobbit is rather high) to maintain the comparison – Looking-glass ought to be mentioned. It is much closer in every way. . . . .

  J. R. R. Tolkien.

  16 To Michael Tolkien.

  [Tolkien’s second son Michael, now aged sixteen, was a pupil at the Oratory School in Berkshire, together with his younger brother Christopher. He was hoping to get into the school rugby football team.]

  3 October 1937

  20 Northmoor Road, Oxford

  Dearest Mick,

  It was nice to have a letter from you. I hope all is going well. I thought the new flats1 looked as if they would be presentable when furnished. It is good of you to keep a kindly eye on Chris, as far as you can. I expect he will make a mess of things to begin with, but he ought soon to find his bearings and be no more trouble to you or himself.

  I am sorry and surprised you are not (yet) in the team. But many a man ends up in it and even with colours, who is rejected at first. It was so with me – and for same reason: too light. But one day I decided to make up for weight by (legitimate) ferocity, and I ended up a house-captain at end of that season, & got my colours the next. But I got rather damaged – among things having my tongue nearly cut out – and as I am on the whole rather luckier than you, I should really be quite happy if you remain uninjured though not in the team! But God bless you & keep you anyway. There is no very special news. Mummy seems to have taken to car-riding. We have been two since you left, and I have now got to take her, P. and J.B.2 out this afternoon instead of writing. So this must be all for the moment. With v. much love indeed.

  Your own

  Father

  17 To Stanley Unwin, Chairman of Allen & Unwin

  [Unwin had sent Tolkien a letter from the author Richard Hughes, who had been given a copy of The Hobbit by Allen & Unwin. Hughes wrote to Unwin: ‘I agree with you that it is one of the best stories for children I have come across for a very long time. . . . . The only snag I can see is that many parents. . . . may be afraid that certain parts of it would be too terrifying for bedside reading.’ Unwin also mentioned that his own eleven-year-old son Rayner, who had written the report on the manuscript of The Hobbit which had led to its publication (see Biography pp. 180–81), had been re-reading the book now that it was in print. Unwin concluded by warning Tolkien that ‘a large public’ would be ‘clamouring next year to hear more from you about Hobbits!’]

  15 October 1937

  20 Northmoor Road, Oxford

  Dear Mr Unwin,

  Thank you very much for your kind letter of October 11th, and now for the copy of Richard Hughes’ letter. I was particularly interested in this, since we are quite unknown to one another. The reviews in The Times and its Literary Supplement were good – that is (unduly) flattering; though I guess, from internal evidence, that they were both written by the same man,1 and one whose approval was assured: we started with common tastes and reading, and have been closely associated for years. Still that in way detracts from their public effect. Also I must respect his opinion, as I believed him to be the best living critic until he turned his attention to me, and no degree of friendship would make him say what he does not mean: he is the most uncompromisingly honest man I have met!. . . .

  No reviewer (that I have seen), although all have carefully used the correct dwarfs themselves, has commented on the fact (which I only became conscious of through reviews) that I use throughout the ‘incorrect’ plural dwarves. I am afraid it is just a piece of private bad grammar, rather shocking in a philologist; but I shall have to go on with it. Perhaps my dwarf – since he and the Gnome2 are only translations into approximate equivalents of creatures with different names and rather different functions in their own world – may be allowed a peculiar plural. The real ‘historical’ plural of dwarf (like teeth of tooth) is dwarrows, anyway: rather a nice word, but a bit too archaic. Still I rather wish I had used the word dwarrow.

  My heart warms to your son. To read the faint and close typescript was noble: to read the whole thing again so soon was a magnificent compliment.

  I have received one postcard, alluding I suppose to the Times’ review: containing just the words:

  sic hobbitur ad astra.3

  All the same I am a little perturbed. I cannot think of anything more to say about hobbits. Mr Baggins seems to have exhibited so fully both the Took and the Baggins side of their nature. But I have only too much to say, and much already written, about the world into which the hobbit intruded. You can, of course, see any of it, and say what you like about it, if and when you wish. I should rather like an opinion, other than that of Mr C. S. Lewis and my children, whether it has any value in itself, or as a marketable commodity, apart from hobbits. But if it is true that The Hobbit has come to stay and more will be wanted, I will start the process of thought, and try to get some idea of a theme drawn from this material for treatment in a similar style and for a similar audience – possibly including actual hobbits. My daughter would like something on the Took family. One reader wan
ts fuller details about Gandalf and the Necromancer. But that is too dark – much too much for Richard Hughes’ snag. I am afraid that snag appears in everything; though actually the presence (even if only on the borders) of the terrible is, I believe, what gives this imagined world its verisimilitude. A safe fairyland is untrue to all worlds. At the moment I am suffering like Mr Baggins from a touch of ‘staggerment’, and I hope I am not taking myself too seriously. But I must confess that your letter has aroused in me a faint hope. I mean, I begin to wonder whether duty and desire may not (perhaps) in future go more closely together. I have spent nearly all the vacation-times of seventeen years examining, and doing things of that sort, driven by immediate financial necessity (mainly medical and educational). Writing stories in prose or verse has been stolen, often guiltily, from time already mortgaged, and has been broken and ineffective. I may perhaps now do what I much desire to do, and not fail of financial duty. Perhaps!fn2

  I think ‘Oxford’ interest is mildly aroused. I am constantly asked how my hobbit is. The attitude is (as I foresaw) not unmixed with surprise and a little pity. My own college is I think good for about six copies, if only in order to find material for teasing me. Appearance in The Times convinced one or two of my more sedate colleagues that they could admit knowledge of my ‘fantasy’ (i.e. indiscretion) without loss of academic dignity. The professor of Byzantine Greek4 bought a copy, ‘because first editions of “Alice” are now very valuable’. I did hear that the Regius Professor of Modern History was recently seen reading ‘The Hobbit’. It is displayed by Parkers5 but not elsewhere (I think).