The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien

by Humphrey Carpenter

  In any case, I personally find most people incalculable in any particular situation or emergency. Perhaps because I am not a good judge of character. But even Auden says only that he can ‘usually predict’ how they will act; and by the insertion of ‘usually’ an element of incompatibility is admitted that, however small, is damaging to his point.

  Some persons are, or seem to be, more calculable than others. But that is due rather to their fortune than to their nature (as individuals). The calculable people reside in relatively fixed circumstances, and it is difficult to catch and observe them in situations that are (to them) strange. That is another good reason for sending ‘hobbits’ – a vision of a simple and calculable people in simple and long-settled circumstances – on a journey far from settled home into strange lands and dangers. Especially if they are provided with some strong motive for endurance and adaptation. Though without any high motive people do change (or rather reveal the latent) on journeys: that is a fact of ordinary observation without any need of symbolical explanation. On a journey of a length sufficient to provide the untoward in any degree from discomfort to fear the change in companions well-known in ‘ordinary life’ (and in oneself) is often startling.

  I dislike the use of ‘political’ in such a context; it seems to me false. It seems clear to me that Frodo’s duty was ‘humane’ not political. He naturally thought first of the Shire, since his roots were there, but the quest had as its object not the preserving of this or that polity, such as the half republic half aristocracy of the Shire, but the liberation from an evil tyranny of all the ‘humane’fn51 – including those, such as ‘easterlings’ and Haradrim, that were still servants of the tyranny.

  Denethor was tainted with mere politics: hence his failure, and his mistrust of Faramir. It had become for him a prime motive to preserve the polity of Gondor, as it was, against another potentate, who had made himself stronger and was to be feared and opposed for that reason rather than because he was ruthless and wicked. Denethor despised lesser men, and one may be sure did not distinguish between orcs and the allies of Mordor. If he had survived as victor, even without use of the Ring, he would have taken a long stride towards becoming himself a tyrant, and the terms and treatment he accorded to the deluded peoples of east and south would have been cruel and vengeful. He had become a ‘political’ leader: sc. Gondor against the rest.

  But that was not the policy or duty set out by the Council of Elrond. Only after hearing the debate and realizing the nature of the quest did Frodo accept the burden of his mission. Indeed the Elves destroyed their own polity in pursuit of a ‘humane’ duty. This did not happen merely as an unfortunate damage of War; it was known by them to be an inevitable result of victory, which could in no way be advantageous to Elves. Elrond cannot be said to have a political duty or purpose.

  Auerbach’s use of ‘political’ may at first sight seem more justified; but it is not, I think, really admissible – not even if we acknowledge the weariness to which mere ‘errantry’ was reduced as the pastime reading of a class chiefly interested in feats of arms and love.fn52 About as amusing to us (or to me) as are stories about cricket, or yarns about a touring team, to those who (like me) find cricket (as it now is) a ridiculous bore. But the feats of arms in (say) Arthurian Romance, or romances attached to that great centre of imagination, do not need to ‘fit into a politically purposive pattern’.fn53 So it was in the earlier Arthurian traditions. Or at least this thread of primitive but powerful imagination was an important element in them. As also in Beowulf. Auerbach should approve of Beowulf, for in it an author tried to fit a deed of ‘errantry’ into a complex political field: the English traditions of the international relations of Denmark, Gotland, and Sweden in ancient days. But that is not the strength of the story, rather its weakness. Beowulf’s personal objects in his journey to Denmark are precisely those of a later Knight: his own renown, and above that the glory of his lord and king; but all the time we glimpse something deeper. Grendel is an enemy who has attacked the centre of the realm, and brought into the royal hall the outer darkness, so that only in daylight can the king sit upon the throne. This is something quite different and more horrible than a ‘political’ invasion of equals – men of another similar realm, such as Ingeld’s later assault upon Heorot.

  The overthrow of Grendel makes a good wonder-tale, because he is too strong and dangerous for any ordinary man to defeat, but it is a victory in which all men can rejoice because he was a monster, hostile to all men and to all humane fellowship and joy. Compared with him even the long politically hostile Danes and Geats were Friends, on the same side. It is the monstrosity and fairy-tale quality of Grendel that really makes the tale important, surviving still when the politics have become dim and the healing of Danish-Geatish relations in an ‘entente cordiale’ between two ruling houses a minor matter of obscure history. In that political world Grendel looks silly, though he certainly is not silly, however naif may be the poet’s imagination and description of him.

  Of course in ‘real life’ causes are not clear cut – if only because human tyrants are seldom utterly corrupted into pure manifestations of evil will. As far as I can judge some seem to have been so corrupt, but even they must rule subjects only part of whom are equally corrupt, while many still need to have ‘good motives’, real or feigned, presented to them. As we see today. Still there are clear cases: e.g. acts of sheer cruel aggression, in which therefore right is from the beginning wholly on one side, whatever evil the resentful suffering of evil may eventually generate in members of the right side. There are also conflicts about important things or ideas. In such cases I am more impressed by the extreme importance of being on the right side, than I am disturbed by the revelation of the jungle of confused motives, private purposes, and individual actions (noble or base) in which the right and the wrong in actual human conflicts are commonly involved. If the conflict really is about things properly called right and wrong, or good and evil, then the rightness or goodness of one side is not proved or established by the claims of either side; it must depend on values and beliefs above and independent of the particular conflict. A judge must assign right and wrong according to principles which he holds valid in all cases. That being so, the right will remain an inalienable possession of the right side and justify its cause throughout.

  (I speak of causes, not of individuals. Of course to a judge whose moral ideas have a religious or philosophical basis, or indeed to anyone not blinded by partisan fanaticism, the rightness of the cause will not justify the actions of its supporters, as individuals, that are morally wicked. But though ‘propaganda’ may seize on them as proofs that their cause was not in fact ‘right’, that is not valid. The aggressors are themselves primarily to blame for the evil deeds that proceed from their original violation of justice and the passions that their own wickedness must naturally (by their standards) have been expected to arouse. They at any rate have no right to demand that their victims when assaulted should not demand an eye for an eye or a tooth for a tooth.)

  Similarly, good actions by those on the wrong side will not justify their cause. There may be deeds on the wrong side of heroic courage, or some of a higher moral level: deeds of mercy and forbearance. A judge may accord them honour and rejoice to see how some men can rise above the hate and anger of a conflict; even as he may deplore the evil deeds on the right side and be grieved to see how hatred once provoked can drag them down. But this will not alter his judgement as to which side was in the right, nor his assignment of the primary blame for all the evil that followed to the other side.

  In my story I do not deal in Absolute Evil. I do not think there is such a thing, since that is Zero. I do not think that at any rate any ‘rational being’ is wholly evil. Satan fell. In my myth Morgoth fell before Creation of the physical world. In my story Sauron represents as near an approach to the wholly evil will as is possible. He had gone the way of all tyrants: beginning well, at least on the level that while desiring to order all things
according to his own wisdom he still at first considered the (economic) well-being of other inhabitants of the Earth. But he went further than human tyrants in pride and the lust for domination, being in origin an immortal (angelic) spirit.fn54 In The Lord of the Rings the conflict is not basically about 'freedom', though that is naturally involved. It is about God, and His sole right to divine honour. The Eldar and the Numenoreans believed in The One, the true God, and held worship of any other person an abomination. Sauron desired to be a God-King, and was held to be this by his servantsfn55 if he had been victorious he would have demanded divine honour from all rational creatures and absolute temporal power over the whole world. So even if in desperation ‘the West’ had bred or hired hordes of orcs and had cruelly ravaged the lands of other Men as allies of Sauron, or merely to prevent them from aiding him, their Cause would have remained indefeasibly right. As does the Cause of those who oppose now the State-God and Marshal This or That as its High Priest, even if it is true (as it unfortunately is) that many of their deeds are wrong, even if it were true (as it is not) that the inhabitants of ‘The West’, except for a minority of wealthy bosses, live in fear and squalor, while the worshippers of the State-God live in peace and abundance and in mutual esteem and trust.

  So I feel that the fiddle-faddle in reviews, and correspondence about them, as to whether my ‘good people’ were kind and merciful and gave quarter (in fact they do), or not, is quite beside the point. Some critics seem determined to represent me as a simple-minded adolescent, inspired with, say, a With-the-flag-to-Pretoria spirit, and wilfully distort what is said in my tale. I have not that spirit, and it does not appear in the story. The figure of Denethor alone is enough to show this; but I have not made any of the peoples on the ‘right’ side, Hobbits, Rohirrim, Men of Dale or of Gondor, any better than men have been or are, or can be. Mine is not an ‘imaginary’ world, but an imaginary historical moment on ‘Middle-earth’ – which is our habitation.

  184 To Sam Gamgee

  [On 13 March, a letter was written to Tolkien by a Mr Sam Gamgee of Brixton Road, London S.W.9: ‘I hope you do not mind my writing to you, but with reference to your story “Lord of the Rings” running as a serial on the radio. . . . I was rather interested at how you arrived at the name of one of the characters named Sam Gamgee because that happens to be my name. I haven’t heard the story myself not having a wireless but I know some who have. . . . . I know it’s fiction, but it is rather a coincidence as the name is very uncommon, but well known in the medical profession.’]

  18 March 1956 As from 76 Sandfield Road, Headington, Oxford

  Dear Mr Gamgee,

  It was very kind of you to write. You can imagine my astonishment, when I saw your signature! I can only say, for your comfort I hope, that the ‘Sam Gamgee’ of my story is a most heroic character, now widely beloved by many readers, even though his origins are rustic. So that perhaps you will not be displeased by the coincidence of the name of this imaginary character (of supposedly many centuries ago) being the same as yours. The reason of my use of the name is this. I lived near Birmingham as a child, and we used ‘gamgee’ as a word for ‘cotton-wool’; so in my story the families of Cotton and Gamgee are connected. I did not know as a child, though I know now, that ‘Gamgee’ was shortened from ‘gamgee-tissue’, and that [it was] named after its inventor (a surgeon I think) who lived between 1828 and 1886. It was probably (I think) his son who died this year, on 1 March, aged 88, after being for many years Professor of Surgery at Birmingham University. Evidently ‘Sam’ or something like it,fn56 is associated with the family – though I never knew this until a few days ago, when I saw Professor Gamgee’s obituary notice, and saw that he was son of Sampson Gamgee – and looked in a dictionary and found that the inventor was S. Gamgee (1828–86), & probably the same.

  Have you any tradition as to the real origin of your distinguished and rare name? Having a rare name myself (often troublesome) I am specially interested.

  The ‘etymology’ given in my book is of course quite fictitious, and made up simply for the purposes of my story. I do not suppose you could be bothered to read so long and fantastic a work, especially if you do not care for stories about a mythical world, but if you could be bothered, I know that the work (which has been astonishingly successful) is in most public libraries. It is alas! very expensive to buy – £3/3/0. But if you or any of your family try it, and find it interesting enough, I can only say that I shall be happy and proud to send you a signed copy of all 3 vols. as a tribute from the author to the distinguished family of Gamgee.

  Yrs sincerely

  J. R. R. Tolkien.

  [Mr Gamgee replied on 30 March with more information about his family. He expressed himself delighted at Tolkien’s offer of signed volumes. Tolkien sent them, and Mr Gamgee acknowledged their arrival, adding: ‘I can assure you that I have every intention of reading them.’]

  185 From a letter to Christopher and Faith Tolkien

  19 March 1956

  I have had a letter from a real Sam Gamgee, from Tooting! He could not have chosen a more Hobbit-sounding place, could he? – though un-hirelike, I fear, in reality.

  Also A. & Unwin send extremely good news or prophecies of probable financial results to come later.

  186 From a letter to Joanna de Bortadano (drafts)

  [Not dated; April 1956]

  Of course my story is not an allegory of Atomic power, but of Power (exerted for Domination). Nuclear physics can be used for that purpose. But they need not be. They need not be used at all. If there is any contemporary reference in my story at all it is to what seems to me the most widespread assumption of our time: that if a thing can be done, it must be done. This seems to me wholly false. The greatest examples of the action of the spirit and of reason are in abnegation. When you say A[tomic] P[ower] is ‘here to stay’ you remind me that Chesterton said that whenever he heard that, he knew that whatever it referred to would soon be replaced, and thought pitifully shabby and old-fashioned. So-called ‘atomic’ power is rather bigger than anything he was thinking of (I have heard it of trams, gas-light, steam-trains). But it surely is clear that there will have to be some ‘abnegation’ in its use, a deliberate refusal to do some of the things it is possible to do with it, or nothing will stay! However, that is simple stuff, a contemporary & possibly passing and ephemeral problem. I do not think that even Power or Domination is the real centre of my story. It provides the theme of a War, about something dark and threatening enough to seem at that time of supreme importance, but that is mainly ‘a setting’ for characters to show themselves. The real theme for me is about something much more permanent and difficult: Death and Immortality: the mystery of the love of the world in the hearts of a race ‘doomed’ to leave and seemingly lose it; the anguish in the hearts of a race ‘doomed’ not to leave it, until its whole evil-aroused story is complete. But if you have now read Vol. III and the story of Aragorn, you will have perceived that. (This story is placed in an appendix, because I have told the whole tale more or less through ‘hobbits’; and that is because another main point in the story for me is the remark of Elrond in Vol. I: ‘Such is oft the course of deeds that move the wheels of the world: small hands do them because they must, while the eyes of the great are elsewhere.’ Though equally important is Merry’s remark (Vol. III p. 146): ‘the soil of the Shire is deep. Still there are things deeper and higher; and not a gaffer could tend his garden in what he calls peace, but for them.’) I am not a ‘democrat’ only because ‘humility’ and equality are spiritual principles corrupted by the attempt to mechanize and formalize them, with the result that we get not universal smallness and humility, but universal greatness and pride, till some Orc gets hold of a ring of power – and then we get and are getting slavery. But all that is rather ‘after-thought’. The story is really a story of what happened in B.C. year X, and it just happened to people who were like that!. . . .

  I hope you have now ‘come by’ Vol. III! I am afraid I am always
rather pleased when I hear of somebody being obliged to buy the book! An author cannot live on library-subscriptions.

  I received a letter the other day from a well known, and certainly not impoverished, man, who informed me as a high compliment that he had become so enthralled that he got out the book several times, and paid heavy fines for keeping it out too long. Words failed me in reply. The L of the R cost some £4000 to produce to begin with, after it left my hands. Before that apart from any other labour I typed it out twice (in places several times). A professional would have charged about £200. There is a laborious practical side even to high Romance – not that hobbits ever forget that.