The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien
Page 19
120 From a letter to Allen & Unwin
16 March 1949
[The services of Milein Cosman had now been dispensed with, and Pauline Baynes had been contracted to illustrate Fanner Giles of Ham.]
Miss Baynes’ pictures must have reached Merton on Saturday; but owing to various things I did not see them till yesterday. I merely write to say that I am pleased with them beyond even the expectations aroused by the first examples. They are more than illustrations, they are a collateral theme. I showed them to my friends whose polite comment was that they reduced my text to a commentary on the drawings.
121 From a letter to Allen & Unwin
13 July 1949
[On the subject of a sequel to Farmer Giles of Ham.]
As for further ‘legends of the Little Kingdom’: I put a reference to one in the Foreword, in case they should ever come to anything, or a manuscript of the fragmentary legend should come to light. But Georgius and Suet remains only a sKetch, and it is difficult now to recapture the spirit of the former days, when we used to beat the bounds of the L.K. in an ancient car. The ‘children’ now range from 20 to 32. But when I have at last got the ‘Lord of the Rings’, of which I have nearly completed a final fair copy, the released spring may do something.
122 To Naomi Mitchison
[Mrs Mitchison had written in praise of Farmer Giles of Ham, which was published in the autumn of 1949.]
18 December 1949
3 Manor Road, Oxford
Dear Mrs Mitchison,
It was extremely kind of you to write to me. . . . . As for ‘Farmer Giles’ it was I fear written very light-heartedly, originally of a ‘no time’ in which blunderbusses or anything might occur. Its slightly donnish touching up, as read to the Lovelace Soc., and as published, makes the Blunderbuss rather glaring – though not really worse than all mediæval treatments of Arthurian matter. But it was too embedded to be changed, and some people find the anachronisms amusing. I myself could not forgo the quotation (so very Murrayesque) from the Oxford Dictionary. Greek Fire must have been more like a flammenwerfer: as used on their ships it seems to have been quite deadly. But in the Isle of Britain in archaeological fact there can have been nothing in the least like a fire-arm. But neither was there fourteenth century armour.
I find ‘dragons’ a fascinating product of imagination. But I don’t think the Beowulf one is frightfully good. But the whole problem of the intrusion of the ‘dragon’ into northern imagination and its transformation there is one I do not know enough about. Fáfnir in the late Norse versions of the Sigurd-story is better; and Smaug and his conversation obviously is in debt there.
I know Icelandic pretty well (as I should), and a little Welsh, but in spite of efforts I have always been rather heavily defeated by Old Irish, or indeed its modern descendants. The mix-up was politically and culturally great and complex – but it left very little linguistic trace on Icelandic, save in the borrowing of certain names notably Brian and Nial which became used in Iceland. On Irish the influence was more considerable. But in any case names that were at all similar in sound tended to be equated or confused. . . . .
I hope to give you soon two books, about which at least one criticism will be possible: that they are excessively long! One is a sequel to ‘The Hobbit’ which I have just finished after 12 years (intermittent) labour. I fear it is 3 times as long, not for children (though that does not mean wholly unsuitable), and rather grim in places. I think it is very much better (in a different way). The other is pure myth and legend of times already remote in Bilbo’s days.
Thank you again for writing. I hope the reply is in places legible. With best wishes.
Yours sincerely,
J. R. R. Tolkien.
123 From a draft to Milton Waldman
5 February 1950
[At about the time that he was finishing The Lord of the Rings, Tolkien was introduced to Milton Waldman, an editor with the London publisher Collins. Waldman expressed great interest in the new book, and also in The Silmarillion, which Tolkien hoped would be published in conjunction with The Lord of the Rings. As Allen & Unwin had not accepted The Silmarillion when Tolkien offered it to them in 1937, he now believed that he should try to change his publisher; accordingly he showed Waldman those parts of The Silmarillion of which there were fair copies. Waldman said he would like to publish it if Tolkien would finish it. Tolkien then showed him The Lord of the Rings. Waldman was again enthusiastic, and offered to publish it providing Tolkien had ‘no commitment either moral or legal to Allen & Unwin’. The reply that Tolkien sent cannot be traced, but what follows is part of a draft for it.]
I am sorry that the days have slipped by since I got your note. . . . . As soon as I had dumped the MS. [of The Lord of the Rings] on you, I felt bad about it: weighing down your holiday with a labour that only an author’s egotism could have inflicted at such a time. And examining my conscience I had to confess that – as one who has worked alone in a corner and only had the criticism of a few like-minded friends – I was moved greatly by the desire to hear from a fresh mind whether my labour had any wider value, or was just a fruitless private hobby.
All the same I don’t think that in fact I burdened you under false pretences. . . . . I believe myself to have no legal obligation to Allen and Unwin, since the clause in The Hobbit contract with regard to offering the next book seems to have been satisfied either (a) by their rejection of The Silmarillion or (b) by their eventual acceptance and publication of Farmer Giles. I should (as you note) be glad to leave them, as I have found them in various ways unsatisfactory. But I have friendly personal relations with Stanley (whom all the same I do not much like) and with his second son Rayner (whom I do like very much). It has always been supposed that I am writing a sequel to The Hobbit. Rayner has read most of The Lord of the Rings and likes it – as a small boy he read the MS. of The Hobbit. Sir Stanley has long been aware that The Lord of the Rings has outgrown its function, and is not pleased since he sees no money in it for anyone (so he said); but he is anxious to see the final result all the same. If this constitutes a moral obligation then I have one: at least to explain the situation. Did I say something of all this in my letter of Dec. 13th? I certainly meant to. However, I certainly shall try to extricate myself, or at least the Silmarillion and all its kin, from the dilatory coils of A. and U. if I can – in a friendly fashion if possible.
124 To Sir Stanley Unwin
[Allen & Unwin had passed on a reader’s enquiry as to whether Tolkien had written an ‘Authentic History of Faery’.]
24 February 1950
Merton College, Oxford
Dear Unwin,
I am, I fear, a most unsatisfactory person. I am at present ‘on leave’, and away off and on; though the effort to cope with a mass of literary and ‘learned’ debts, that my leave was supposed to assist, has proved too much for me, especially as I have been troubled with my throat and have felt often far from well.
But at any rate I should long ago have answered your query, handed on from Mr Selby. Though dated Jan. 31st, it was in fact addressed to me on Dec. 31st.
I cannot imagine and have not discovered what Mr Selby was referring to. I have, of course, not written an ‘Authentic history of Faery’ (and should not in any case have chosen such a title); nor have I caused any prophecy or rumour of any such work to be circulated. I must suppose that Mr Selby associates me with ‘Faery’, and has attached my name to someone else’s work It seems hardly likely that he can have come across some literary chat (of which in any case I am ignorant) in which somebody has referred to my Silmarillion (long ago rejected, and shelved). The title is not particularly fitting, and the work has been read in MS. only by about five persons, counting two of my children and your reader.
That, however, brings me to a more important topic (to me at any rate). In one of your more recent letters you expressed a desire still to see the MS. of my proposed work, The Lord of the Rings, originally expected to be a sequel to The Hobbit. For ei
ghteen months now I have been hoping for the day when I could call it finished. But it was not until after Christmas that this goal was reached at last. It is finished, if still partly unrevised, and is, I suppose, in a condition which a reader could read, if he did not wilt at the sight of it.
As the estimate for typing a fair copy was in the neighbourhood of £100 (which I have not to spare), I was obliged to do nearly all myself. And now I look at it, the magnitude of the disaster is apparent to me. My work has escaped from my control, and I have produced a monster: an immensely long, complex, rather bitter, and very terrifying romance, quite unfit for children (if fit for anybody); and it is not really a sequel to The Hobbit, but to The Silmarillion. My estimate is that it contains, even without certain necessary adjuncts, about 600,000 words. One typist put it higher. I can see only too clearly how impracticable this is. But I am tired. It is off my chest, and I do not feel that I can do anything more about it, beyond a little revision of inaccuracies. Worse still: I feel that it is tied to the Silmarillion.
You may, perhaps, remember about that work, a long legendary of imaginary times in a ‘high style’, and full of Elves (of a sort). It was rejected on the advice of your reader many years ago. As far as my nemory goes he allowed to it a kind of Celtic beauty intolerable to Anglo-Saxons in large doses. He was probably perfectly right and just. And you commented that it was a work to be drawn upon rather than published.
Unfortunately I am not an Anglo-Saxon and though shelved (until a year ago), the Silmarillion and all that has refused to be suppressed. It has bubbled up, infiltrated, and probably spoiled everything (that even remotely approached ‘Faery’) which I have tried to write since. It was kept out of Farmer Giles with an effort, but stopped the continuation. Its shadow was deep on the later parts of The Hobbit. It has captured The Lord of the Rings, so that that has become simply its continuation and completion, requiring the Silmarillion to be fully intelligible – without a lot of references and explanations that clutter it in one or two places.
Ridiculous and tiresome as you may think me, I want to publish them both – The Silmarillion and The Lord of the Rings – in conjunction or in connexion. ‘I want to’ – it would be wiser to say ‘I should like to’, since a little packet of, say, a million words,1 of matter set out in extenso that Anglo-Saxons (or the English-speaking public) can only endure in moderation, is not very likely to see the light, even if paper were available at will.
All the same that is what I should like. Or I will let it all be. I cannot contemplate any drastic re-writing or compression. Of course being a writer I should like to see my words printed; but there they are. For me the chief thing is that I feel that the whole matter is now ‘exorcized’, and rides me no more. I can turn now to other things, such as perhaps the Little Kingdom of the Wormings,2 or to quite other matters and stories.
I am sorry that this letter is so long, and so full of myself. I am not really filled with any overweening conceit of my absurd private hobbies. But you have been very patient – expecting during the long years a sequel to The Hobbit, to fit a similar audience; though I know that you are aware that I have been going off the rails. I owe you some kind of explanation.
You will let me know what you think. You can have all this mountain of stuff, if you wish. It will take a reader who really reads a long time, I fear; though he may make up his mind with a sample. But I shall not have any just grievance (nor shall I be dreadfully surprised) if you decline so obviously unprofitable a proposition; and ask me to hurry up and submit some more reasonable book as soon as I can.
Yours sincerely
J. R. R. Tolkien.
P.S. Rayner, poor man, has of course read a large part of The Lord of the Rings, though not to the bitter end: I only finished the last ‘book’ quite recently. I hope he is prospering. How is little Farmer Giles doing, I wonder?
JRRT.
125 To Sir Stanley Unwin
[Unwin replied on 6 March, asking if the problem of the combined length of the two books might be solved by splitting them into ‘three or four to some extent self-contained volumes’. In response to Tolkien’s enquiry about Farmer Giles of Ham, he reported that, out of the first printing of 5,000 copies, 2,000 had been sold, and that the book had ‘not yet done as well as we had hoped’, though he said it would undoubtedly continue to sell.]
10 March 1950
3 Manor Road, Oxford
Dear Unwin,
Thank you for your letter of March 6th. I see in it your good will; but also, I fear, your opinion that this mass of stuff is not really a publisher’s affair at all, but requires an endowment. I am not surprised.
With regard to your enquiry about its divisibility. A work of great length can, of course, be divided up artificially into more handy bulks: the sort of process that produced sections of the big Oxford Dictionary labelled ‘ONOMASTICAL – OUTING’ and ‘SIMPLE to SLEEP’. But the whole Saga of the Three Jewels and the Rings of Power has only one natural division into two parts (each of about 600,000 words): The Silmarillion and other legends; and The Lord of the Rings. The latter is as indivisible and unified as I could make it.
It is, of course, divided into sections for narrative purposes (six of them), and two or three of these, which are of more or less equal length, could be bound separately, but they are not in any sense self-contained.
I now wonder (I must confess, though as a ‘seller’ I suppose I should show more confidence) whether many beyond my friends, not all of whom have endured to the end, would read anything so long, even if they liked that kind of thing in moderation. I wonder still more if they would read, not to mention purchase, it serially, and if the pot, as it were, went off the boil. You must know much more about that than I do.
I realise the financial difficulties, and the remote chance of recovering the great cost. I have no money to sink in the bog, and I can hardly expect you to sink it. Please do not think that I shall feel that I have a just grievance if you decline to become involved, without much hesitation. After all the understanding was that you would welcome a sequel to The Hobbit, and this work can not be regarded as such in any practical sense, or in the matter of atmosphere, tone, or audience addressed.
I am sorry that I presented such a problem. Wilfully, it may seem, since I knew long ago that I was courting trouble and producing the unprintable and unsaleable, most likely. I have not at the moment anything else completed to submit; but I am quite prepared to make something simpler and shorter soon. I feel, at the end of my leave of absence, a return of energy, and when the present time of trial is over (the process of removing all my teeth began yesterday, and that of removing my household goods begins shortly) I hope to feel still more. I think I shall soon put in hand other things long in petto.
All the same it would have been more encouraging if Farmer Giles could report better of his luck. Rather a donnish little squib after all? I cannot discover that he has been widely heard of. He does not seem to have been very forcibly brought to notice.
I always thought, that in so far as he has virtue, it would have been improved by other stories of the same kingdom and style; but the domination of the remoter world was so great that I could not make them. It may now prove different.
With best wishes,
Yours sincerely,
J. R. R. Tolkien.
126 To Milton Waldman (draft)
10 March 1950
3 Manor Road, Oxford
Dear Waldman,
Sir Stanley Unwin has at length replied personally. The pertinent paragraph is:
‘Your letter has indeed set us a problem! It would not have been easy to solve before the War; it is much more difficult now with costs of production about three times what they were then. In order to see more precisely what is involved would you tell us whether there is any possibility of breaking the million words into, say, three or four to some extent self-contained volumes. You may perhaps remember that when we published Murasaki’s great work The Tale of Genji, we starte
d by issuing it in six separate volumes, each under a different title, though the first four were, of course, all the Tale of Gengi, and the last two were more about his son.’
I have replied to the effect that I see in his letter his good will, but also perceive his opinion that this mass of stuff is not suitable for ordinary publication and requires endowment. (I had in my letter made a strong point that the Silmarillion etc. and The Lord of the Rings went together, as one long Saga of the Jewels and the Rings, and that I was resolved to treat them as one thing, however they might formally be issued.) I noted that the mass naturally divides only between The Silmarillion and The Lord (each about 600,000 words), but that the latter is not divisible except into artificial fragments. I added that I shall not be surprised if he declines to become involved in this monstrous Saga; and that now it is off my chest, I am very willing to turn out something simpler and shorter (and even actually ‘juvenile’) for him, soon.
There at the moment the matter waits. I profoundly hope that he will let go without demanding the MS. and two months for ‘reading’. But I am not sanguine. But time runs short. I shall soon be plunged back into business – I already am involved, as I find things getting very out of hand during my absence; and I shall not be free again for writing until I return from Ireland at the beginning of July.
Unwin tells me that Farmer Giles has only sold 2000 copies. I have replied that I have observed no advertisements. . . .
With best wishes.
Yours sincerely
J. R. R. Tolkien.
I move to 99 Holywell,1 but the date is uncertain, as the house needs a lot of repair. I hope but hardly expect to be settled before St George’s Day. Merton will always find me. JRRT.