The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien

by Humphrey Carpenter

  The High Elves were exiles from the Blessed Realm of the Gods (after their own particular Elvish fall) and they had no ‘religion’ (or religious practices, rather) for those had been in the hands of the gods, praising and adoring Eru ‘the One’, Ilúvatar the Father of All on the Mt. of Aman.

  The highest kind of Men, those of the Three Houses, who aided the Elves in the primal War against the Dark Lord, were rewarded by the gift of the Land of the Star, or Westernesse (= Númenor) which was most westerly of all mortal lands, and almost in sight of Elvenhome (Eldamar) on the shores of the Blessed Realm. There they became the Númenoreans, the Kings of Men. They were given a triple span of life – but not elvish ‘immortality’ (which is not eternal, but measured by the duration in time of Earth); for the point of view of this mythology is that ‘mortality’ or a short span, and ‘immortality’ or an indefinite span was part of what we might call the biological and spiritual nature of the Children of God, Men and Elves (the firstborn) respectively, and could not be altered by anyone (even a Power or god), and would not be altered by the One, except perhaps by one of those strange exceptions to all rules and ordinances which seem to crop up in the history of the Universe, and show the Finger of God, as the one wholly free Will and Agent.fn36

  The Númenóreans thus began a great new good, and as monotheists; but like the Jews (only more so) with only one physical centre of ‘worship’: the summit of the mountain Meneltarma ‘Pillar of Heaven’ – literally, for they did not conceive of the sky as a divine residence – in the centre of Númenor; but it had no building and no temple, as all such things had evil associations. But they ‘fell’ again – because of a Ban or prohibition, inevitably. They were forbidden to sail west beyond their own land because they were not allowed to be or try to be ‘immortal’; and in this myth the Blessed Realm is represented as still having an actual physical existence as a region of the real world, one which they could have reached by ship, being very great mariners. While obedient, people from the Blessed Realm often visited them, and so their knowledge and arts reached almost an Elvish height.

  But the proximity of the Blessed Realm, the very length of their life-span given as a reward, and the increasing delight of life, made them begin to hanker after ‘immortality’. They did not break the ban but they begrudged it. And forced east they turned from beneficence in their appearances on the coasts of Middle-earth, to pride, desire of power and wealth. So they came into conflict with Sauron, the lieutenant of the Prime Dark Lord, who had fallen back into evil and was claiming both kingship and godship over Men of Middle-earth. It was on the kingship question that Ar-pharazôn the 13th3 and mightiest King of Númenor challenged him primarily. His armada that took haven at Umbar was so great, and the Númenóreans at their height so terrible and resplendent, that Sauron’s servants deserted him.

  So Sauron had recourse to guile. He submitted, and was carried off to Númenor as a prisoner-hostage. But he was of course a ‘divine’ person (in the terms of this mythology; a lesser member of the race of Valar) and thus far too powerful to be controlled in this way. He steadily got Arpharazon’s mind under his own control, and in the event corrupted many of the Númenóreans, destroyed the conception of Eru, now represented as a mere figment of the Valar or Lords of the West (a fictitious sanction to which they appealed if anyone questioned their rulings), and substituted a Satanist religion with a large temple, the worship of the dispossessed eldest of the Valar (the rebellious Dark Lord of the First Age).fn37 He finally induces Arpharazôn, frightened by the approach of old age, to make the greatest of all armadas, and go up with war against the Blessed Realm itself, and wrest it and its ‘immortality’ into his own hands.fn38

  The Valar had no real answer to this monstrous rebellion – for the Children of God were not under their ultimate jurisdiction: they were not allowed to destroy them, or coerce them with any ‘divine’ display of the powers they held over the physical world. They appealed to God; and a catastrophic ‘change of plan’ occurred. At the moment that Arpharazon set foot on the forbidden shore, a rift appeared: Númenor foundered and was utterly overwhelmed; the armada was swallowed up; and the Blessed Realm removed for ever from the circles of the physical world. Thereafter one could sail right round the world and never find it.

  So ended Númenor-Atlantis and all its glory. But in a kind of Noachian situation the small party of the Faithful in Númenor, who had refused to take part in the rebellion (though many of them had been sacrificed in the Temple by the Sauronians) escaped in Nine Ships (Vol. I. 379, II. 202) under the leadership of Elendil (=Ælfwine, Elf-friend) and his sons Isildur and Anárion, and established a kind of diminished memory of Númenor in Exile on the coasts of Middle-earth – inheriting the hatred of Sauron, the friendship of the Elves, the knowledge of the True God, and (less happily) the yearning for longevity, and the habit of embalming and the building of splendid tombs – their only ‘hallows’: or almost so. But the ‘hallow’ of God and the Mountain had perished, and there was no real substitute. Also when the ‘Kings’ came to an end there was no equivalent to a ‘priesthood’: the two being identical in Númenórean ideas. So while God (Eru) was a datum of goodfn39) Númenórean philosophy, and a prime fact in their conception of history, He had at the time of the War of the Ring no worship and no hallowed place. And that kind of negative truth was characteristic of the West, and all the area under Númenórean influence: the refusal to worship any ‘creature’, and above all no ‘dark lord’ or satanic demon, Sauron, or any other, was almost as far as they got. They had (I imagine) no petitionary prayers to God; but preserved the vestige of thanksgiving. (Those under special Elvish influence might call on the angelic powers for help in immediate peril or fear of evil enemies.fn40) It later appears that there had been a ‘hallow’ on Mindolluin, only approachable by the King, where he had anciently offered thanks and praise on behalf of his people; but it had been forgotten. It was re-entered by Aragorn, and there he found a sapling of the White Tree, and replanted it in the Court of the Fountain. It is to be presumed that with the reemergence of the lineal priest kings (of whom Lúthien the Blessed Elf-maiden was a foremother) the worship of God would be renewed, and His Name (or title) be again more often heard. But there would be no temple of the True God while Númenórean influence lasted.

  But they were still living on the borders of myth – or rather this story exhibits ‘myth’ passing into History or the Dominion of Men; for of course the Shadow will arise again in a sense (as is clearly foretold by Gandalf), but never again (unless it be before the great End) will an evil daemon be incarnate as a physical enemy; he will direct Men and all the complications of half-evils, and defective-goods, and the twilights of doubt as to sides, such situations as he most loves (you can see them already arising in the War of the Ring, which is by no means so clear cut an issue as some critics have averred): those will be and are our more difficult fate. But if you imagine people in such a mythical state, in which Evil is largely incarnate, and in which physical resistance to it is a major act of loyalty to God, I think you would have the ‘good people’ in just such a state: concentrated on the negative: the resistance to the false, while ‘truth’ remained more historical and philosophical than religious.

  But ‘wizards’ are not in any sense or degree ‘shady’. Not mine. I am under the difficulty of finding English names for mythological creatures with other names, since people would not ‘take’ a string of Elvish names, and I would rather they took my legendary creatures even with the false associations of the ‘translation’ than not at all.

  Even the dwarfs are not really Germanic ‘dwarfs’ (Zwerge, dweorgas, dvergar), and I call them ‘dwarves’ to mark that. They are not naturally evil, not necessarily hostile, and not a kind of maggot-folk bred in stone; but a variety of incarnate rational creature. The istari are translated ‘wizards’ because of the connexion of ‘wizard’ with wise and so with ‘witting’ and knowing. They are actually emissaries from the True West, and so mediately
from God, sent precisely to strengthen the resistance of the ‘good’, when the Valar become aware that the shadow of Sauron is taking shape again.

  [The draft ends with a discussion of the nature of the istari and the death and reincarnation of Gandalf which resembles the passage on this subject earlier in the letter.]

  157 From a letter to Katherine Farrer

  27 November 1954

  [The second volume of The Lord of the Rings was published, under the title The Two Towers, on 11 November.]

  I have felt very mean indeed, since I have known that you have both been ill and troubled, and I have never written, or called, or made any offer of help (or even sympathy). Always meaning to, of course! To any eyes but those of your charity I shd. have appeared the sort of ‘friend’ that dumps his works on you when you are already overloaded, sucks up praise and encouragement, expects reviews, and then departs when you begin to break down. . . . .

  Of course I understand the financial difficulties. For a real holiday it shd. be not only ‘with pay’ but ‘with more than pay’. I am sure there must be funds somewhere that are meant for such a purpose. If they cannot be found or tapped, nothing would give me more pleasure than to become one. I could for instance well spare £50 (and more if this rise in my wages occurs). But perhaps this will seem rather impertinent. Forget it, if it does. (I can only say that Trinity was very kind to me when I was in a dreadful pinch in the early war years,1 and I should prefer this way of being grateful – by helping far its most distinguished member and wife ‘towards the sun’.) Bless you both. . . .

  I return a copy of Lewis.2 Also I send a copy of ‘Encounter’ in which one of Auden’s volleys occurred: much the same but longer than the N.Y.S. Times.3 I got ‘Encounter’ for you, so you need not return it. The Ents seem to have been a success generally (even with Muir);4 but A. is a better critic. As usually with me they grew rather out of their name, than the other way about. I always felt that something ought to be done about the peculiar A. Saxon word ent for a ‘giant’ or mighty person of long ago – to whom all old works were ascribed. If it had a slightly philosophical tone (though in ordinary philology it is ‘quite unconnected with any present participle of the verb to be’) that also interested me.

  I am hopelessly behind with the ‘Appendices’ to Vol. III; but I have been be-bothered with many things; and Chris, too overwhelmed to help with maps. It just can’t be helped. I am at it.

  158 From a letter to Rayner Unwin

  2 December 1954

  [A comment on the ‘blurb’ on the dust-jacket of Houghton Mifflin’s edition of The Two Towers.]

  I have only just had time to glance at the H.M. ‘jacket’ stuff … This account must have been written by someone who has not read the book, but relied on hearsay inaccurately remembered. The ‘giving away of the plot’ is, of course, a silly (and unnecessary) procedure; but at least the plot given away might be that of the book described. Or is that part of the game?

  159 From a letter to Dora Marshall

  3 March 1955

  [A reply to a letter from a reader of The Lord of the Rings.]

  I had great difficulty (it took several years) to get my story published, and it is not easy to say who is most surprised at the result: myself or the publishers! But it remains an unfailing delight to me to find my own belief justified: that the ‘fairy-story’ is really an adult genre, and one for which a starving audience exists. I said so, more or less, in my essay on the fairy-story in the collection dedicated to the memory of Charles Williams. But it was a mere proposition – which awaited proof. As C. S. Lewis said to me long ago, more or less – (I do not suppose my memory of his dicta is any more precisely accurate than his of mine: I often find strange things attributed to me in his works) – ‘if they won’t write the kind of books we want to read, we shall have to write them ourselves; but it is very laborious’. Being a man of immense power and industry, his ‘trilogy’ was finished much sooner amidst much other work; but at last my slower and more meticulous (as well as more indolent and less organized) machine has produced its effort. The labour! I have typed myself nearly all of it twice, and parts more often; not to mention the written stages! But I am amply rewarded and encouraged to find that the labour was not wasted. One such letter as yours is sufficient – and ‘furnishes more than any author ought to ask’.

  I knew Charles Williams well in his last few years: partly because of Lewis’s good habit of writing to authors who pleased him (which put us both in touch with Williams); and still more because of the good fortune amid disaster that transferred Williams to Oxford during the War. But I do not think we influenced one another at all! Too ‘set’, and too different. We both listened (in C.S.L.’s rooms) to large and largely unintelligible fragments of one another’s works read aloud; because C.S.L. (marvellous man) seemed able to enjoy us both. But I think we both found the other’s mind (or rather mode of expression, and climate) as impenetrable when cast into ‘literature’, as we found the other’s presence and conversation delightful.

  160 From a letter to Rayner Unwin

  6 March 1955

  [Tolkien had handed over some of the material for the Appendices to Volume III of The Lord of the Rings, and Allen & Unwin were pressing him for the remainder. On 2 March, Rayner Unwin wrote to plead for it to be delivered, saying that otherwise the publishers would have to ‘yield to the intense pressure that is accumulating and publish [the third volume] without all the additional material’.]

  I must accept your challenge. We must make do with what material I can produce by your return. I hope the Map, which is really the most necessary, will be included.

  I now wish that no appendices had been promised! For I think their appearance in truncated and compressed form will satisfy nobody: certainly not me; clearly from the (appalling mass of) letters I receive not those people who like that kind of thing – astonishingly many; while those who enjoy the book as an ‘heroic romance’ only, and find ‘unexplained vistas’ part of the literary effect, will neglect the appendices, very properly.

  I am not now at all sure that the tendency to treat the whole thing as a kind of vast game is really good – cert. not for me, who find that kind of thing only too fatally attractive. It is, I suppose, a tribute to the curious effect that story has, when based on very elaborate and detailed workings of geography, chronology, and language, that so many should clamour for sheer ‘information’, or ‘lore’. But the demands such people make would again require a book, at least the size of Vol. I.

  In any case the ‘background’ matter is very intricate, useless unless exact, and compression within the limits available leaves it unsatisfactory. It needs great concentration (and leisure), and being completely interlocked cannot be dealt with piecemeal. I have found that out, since I let part of it go.

  161 From a letter to Rayner Unwin

  14 April 1955

  The map is hell! I have not been as careful as I should in keeping track of distances. I think a large scale map simply reveals all the chinks in the armour – besides being obliged to differ somewhat from the printed small scale version, which was semi-pictorial. May have to abandon it for this trip!

  162 From a letter to Rayner Unwin

  18 April 1955

  I have sent, registered under separate cover, Christopher’s beautiful re-drawing of the large scale draft-map I made of the area with which Vol. III is mainly concerned.

  I hope it will be approved. . . . . The scale (which I noticed he had not inserted) is 5 times enlarged exactly from that of the general map.

  163 To W.H. Auden

  [Auden, who had reviewed The Fellowship of the Ring in the New York Times Book Review and Encounter, had been sent proofs of the third volume, The Return of the King. He wrote to Tolkien in April 1955 to ask various questions arising from the book. Tolkien’s reply does not survive (Auden usually threw away letters after reading them). Auden wrote again on 3 June to say that he had been asked to give a talk about The Lord of the
Rings on the BBC Third Programme in October. He asked Tolkien if there were any points he would like to hear made in the broadcast, and whether he would supply a few ‘human touches’ in the form of information about how the book came to be written. Tolkien’s reply survives because on this occasion – and when he subsequently wrote to Auden – he kept a carbon copy, from which this text is taken.]

  7 June 1955

  76 Sandfield Road, Headington, Oxford

  Dear Auden,

  I was very pleased to hear from you, and glad to feel that you were not bored. I am afraid that you may be in for rather a long letter again; but you can do what you like with it. I type it so that it may at any rate be quickly readable. I do not really think that I am frightfully important. I wrote the Trilogy1 as a personal satisfaction, driven to it by the scarcity of literature of the sort that I wanted to read (and what there was was often heavily alloyed). A great labour; and as the author of the Ancrene Wisse says at the end of his work: ‘I would rather, God be my witness, set out on foot for Rome than begin the work over again!’ But unlike him I would not have said: ‘Read some of this book at your leisure every day; and I hope that if you read it often it will prove very profitable to you; otherwise I shall have spent my long hours very ill.’ I was not thinking much of the profit or delight of others; though no one can really write or make anything purely privately.

  However, when the BBC employs any one so important as yourself to talk publicly about the Trilogy, not without reference to the author, the most modest (or at any rate retiring) of men, whose instinct is to cloak such self-knowledge as he has, and such criticisms of life as he knows it, under mythical and legendary dress, cannot help thinking about it in personal terms – and finding it interesting, and difficult, too, to express both briefly and accurately.