The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien (41 page)

‘Middle-earth', by the way, is not a name of a never-never land without relation to the world we live in (like the Mercury of Eddison).
⁴
It is just a use of Middle English
middel-erde
(or
erthe
), altered from Old English
Middangeard:
the name for the inhabited lands of Men ‘between the seas'. And though I have not attempted to relate the shape of the mountains and land-masses to what geologists may say or surmise about the nearer past, imaginatively this ‘history' is supposed to take place in a period of the actual Old World of this planet.

There are of course certain things and themes that move me specially. The inter-relations between the ‘noble' and the ‘simple' (or common, vulgar) for instance. The ennoblement of the ignoble I find specially moving. I am (obviously) much in love with plants and above all trees, and always have been; and I find human maltreatment of them as hard to bear as some find ill-treatment of animals.

I think the so-called ‘fairy story' one of the highest forms of literature, and quite erroneously associated with children (as such). But my views on that I set out in a lecture delivered at St Andrew's (on the Andrew Lang foundation, eventually published in
Essays Presented to Charles Williams
by Oxford University Press, as ‘On Fairy Stories'). I think it is quite an important work, at least for anyone who thinks me worth considering at all; but the O.U.P. have infuriatingly let it go out of print, though it is now in demand – and my only copy has been stolen. Still it might be found in a library, or I might get hold of a copy.

If all this is obscure, wordy, and self-regarding and neither ‘bright, brief, nor quotable' forgive me. Is there anything else you would like me to say?

Yours sincerely,

J(ohn) R(onald) R(euel) Tolkien.

P.S. The book is
not
of course a ‘trilogy'. That and the titles of the volumes was a fudge thought necessary for publication, owing to length and cost. There is no real division into 3, nor is any one part intelligible alone. The story was conceived and written as a whole and the only natural divisions are the ‘books' I–VI (which originally had titles).

This business began so far back that it might be said to have begun at birth. Somewhere about six years old I tried to write some verses on a
dragon
about which I now remember nothing except that it contained the expression a
green great dragon
and that I remained puzzled for a very long time at being told that this should be
great green.
But the mythology (and associated languages) first began to take shape during the 1914–18 war.
The Fall of Gondolin
(and the birth of Eärendil) was written in hospital and on leave after surviving the Battle of the Somme in 1916. The kernel of the mythology, the matter of
Lúthien Tinúviel
and
Beren
, arose from a small woodland glade filled with ‘hemlocks' (or other white umbellifers) near Roos on the Holderness peninsula – to which I occasionally went when free from regimental duties while in the Humber Garrison in 1918.

I came eventually and by slow degrees to write
The Lord of the Rings
to satisfy myself: of course without success, at any rate not above 75 percent. But now (when the work is no longer hot, immediate or so personal) certain features of it, and especially certain places, still move me very powerfully. The heart remains in the description of Cerin Amroth (end of Vol. I, Bk. ii, ch. 6), but I am most stirred by the sound of the horses of the Rohirrim at cockcrow; and most grieved by Gollum's failure (just) to repent when interrupted by Sam: this seems to me really like the
real
world in which the instruments of just retribution are seldom themselves just or holy; and the good are often stumbling blocks. . . . .

Nothing has astonished me more (and I think my publishers) than the welcome given to
The Lord of the Rings.
But it is, of course, a constant source of consolation and pleasure to me. And, I may say, a piece of singular good fortune, much envied by some of my contemporaries. Wonderful people still
buy
the book, and to a man ‘retired' that is both grateful and comforting.

22 July 1955

I return in separate parcel the material sent to me (arrived mid-day Wednesday). I have done my best and quickest with it; but I fear I have missed today's post and this will not go until tomorrow. Time is short, and the material rather intricate!

I am still puzzled and dissatisfied with the procedure – at any rate it makes my part much more laborious, and greatly increases the chances of errors and discrepancies still appearing in the published volume.

I know that I sent in corrections after the revised page proofs had been returned. But that is now a very long time back and I do not yet understand why I should now receive Queries, raised by the head reader in the course of his
‘final reading of the main text'
that are not based on the final text, but on one that does not incorporate numerous (and some extensive) revisions. Errors are almost certain to occur, or to have occurred, at some of these points. The compositors always make mistakes in setting from my handwriting!

I am also a little disturbed because though the selected pages of Queries are presented ‘for Queries only', and contain corrections of small details (as well as Queries) throughout, there remain
errors
in these pages that are neither queried nor corrected. For instance the heading House of Healing throughout Bk. V Ch. 8 in spite of the chapter title.

I have, however, v. little time left now, and could not deal with anything that arrived after Wed. morning next. Not being satisfied nor indeed (frankly) wholly reassured, I have made out a list of all the emendations, insertions, and corrections of the main text which do
not
yet appear in the proofs. I have made this list as clear as I can, and I hope it will be carefully checked with the text. . . . .

I can only hope that the
Angerthas
will come out all right in the wash! But I am rather anxious. Jarrolds appear to have adopted my suggestion and now propose to use the phonetic letter ŋ instead of my
. But the
Table in printable form that I sent in, & which you reported (on 'phone) was being adopted, used
.

I hope care will be taken to use either
or
throughout.
And also, please, NOT to replace
ng
by
ŋ. I am alarmed by the Reader's query of
ng
at the end of (p. 404) line 23. This reveals that, for all his eagle eye, he has not understood the simple distinction that is being made; or so it would seem. . . . .

I hope some of this is legible. I am v. tired.

15 August 1955

I am still staggered by the frescoes of Assisi. You must visit it. We came in for the great feast of Santa Chiara and the eve Aug. 11–12. High Mass sung by Cardinal Micara with silver trumpets at the elevation!

I am typing out a diary. I remain in love with Italian, and feel quite lorn without a chance of trying to speak it! We must keep it up. . . . .

On the whole for pure fun and pleasure, I enjoyed the first days at Venice most. But we lived v. cheap in Assisi, and I have brought about £50 back. Our opera was washed out by torrents all Thursday evening; but they put on a special extra on Friday (our last day in Venice) at which our tickets were good. So we had our
Rigoletto.
Perfectly astounding.

7 September 1955

76 Sandfield Road, Headington, Oxford