John Ronald Reuel Tolkien
Who was Tolkien?
John Ronald
Reuel Tolkien (1892-1973) was a major scholar of the English language,
specialising in Old and Middle English. Twice Professor of Anglo-Saxon (Old
English) at the University of Oxford, he also wrote a number of stories,
including most famously The Hobbit (1937) and The Lord of the Rings
(1954-1955), which are set in a pre-historic era in an invented version of our
world which he called by the Middle English name of Middle-earth. This was
peopled by Men (and women), Elves, Dwarves, Trolls, Orcs (or Goblins) and of
course Hobbits. He has regularly been condemned by the Eng. Lit. establishment,
with honourable exceptions, but loved by literally millions of readers
worldwide.
In the 1960s
he was taken up by many members of the nascent “counter-culture” largely because
of his concern with environmental issues. In 1997 he came top of three British
polls, organised respectively by Channel 4 / Waterstone’s, the Folio Society,
and SFX, the UK’s leading science fiction media magazine, amongst discerning
readers asked to vote for the greatest book of the 20th century. Please note
also that his name is spelt Tolkien (there is no “Tolkein”).
Childhood and Youth
The name “Tolkien” (pron.:
Tol-keen; equal stress on both syllables) is believed to be of German origin;
Toll-kühn: foolishly brave, or stupidly clever – hence the pseudonym “Oxymore”
which he occasionally used. His father’s side of the family appears to have
migrated from Saxony in the 18th century, but over the century and a half
before his birth had become thoroughly Anglicised. Certainly his father, Arthur
Reuel Tolkien, considered himself nothing if not English. Arthur was a bank
clerk, and went to South Africa in the 1890s for better prospects of promotion.
There he was joined by his bride, Mabel Suffield, whose family were not only
English through and through, but West Midlands since time immemorial. So John
Ronald (“Ronald” to family and early friends) was born in Bloemfontein, S.A.,
on 3 January 1892. His memories of Africa were slight but vivid, including a
scary encounter with a large hairy spider, and influenced his later writing to
some extent; slight, because on 15 February 1896 his father died, and he, his
mother and his younger brother Hilary returned to England – or more
particularly, the West Midlands.
The West Midlands in
Tolkien’s childhood were a complex mixture of the grimly industrial Birmingham
conurbation, and the quintessentially rural stereotype of England,
Worcestershire and surrounding areas: Severn country, the land of the composers
Elgar, Vaughan Williams and Gurney, and more distantly the poet A. E. Housman
(it is also just across the border from Wales). Tolkien’s life was split
between these two: the then very rural hamlet of Sarehole, with its mill, just
south of Birmingham; and darkly urban Birmingham itself, where he was
eventually sent to King Edward’s School. By then the family had moved to King’s
Heath, where the house backed onto a railway line – young Ronald’s developing
linguistic imagination was engaged by the sight of coal trucks going to and
from South Wales bearing destinations like” Nantyglo”,” Penrhiwceiber” and
“Senghenydd”.
Then they moved to the
somewhat more pleasant Birmingham suburb of Edgbaston. However, in the
meantime, something of profound significance had occurred, which estranged
Mabel and her children from both sides of the family: in 1900, together with
her sister May, she was received into the Roman Catholic Church. From then on,
both Ronald and Hilary were brought up in the faith of Pio Nono, and remained
devout Catholics throughout their lives. The parish priest who visited the
family regularly was the half-Spanish half-Welsh Father Francis Morgan.
Tolkien family life was
generally lived on the genteel side of poverty. However, the situation worsened
in 1904, when Mabel Tolkien was diagnosed as having diabetes, usually fatal in
those pre-insulin days. She died on 14 November of that year leaving the two
orphaned boys effectively destitute. At this point Father Francis took over,
and made sure of the boys’ material as well as spiritual welfare, although in
the short term they were boarded with an unsympathetic aunt-by-marriage,
Beatrice Suffield, and then with a Mrs Faulkner.
By this time Ronald was
already showing remarkable linguistic gifts. He had mastered the Latin and
Greek which was the staple fare of an arts education at that time, and was
becoming more than competent in a number of other languages, both modern and
ancient, notably Gothic, and later Finnish. He was already busy making up his
own languages, purely for fun. He had also made a number of close friends at
King Edward’s; in his later years at school they met regularly after hours as
the “T. C. B. S.” (Tea Club, Barrovian Society, named after their meeting place
at the Barrow Stores) and they continued to correspond closely and exchange and
criticise each other’s literary work until 1916.
However, another
complication had arisen. Amongst the lodgers at Mrs Faulkner’s boarding house
was a young woman called Edith Bratt. When Ronald was 16, and she 19, they struck
up a friendship, which gradually deepened. Eventually Father Francis took a
hand, and forbade Ronald to see or even correspond with Edith for three years,
until he was 21. Ronald stoically obeyed this injunction to the letter. He went
up to Exeter College, Oxford in 1911, where he stayed, immersing himself in the
Classics, Old English, the Germanic languages (especially Gothic), Welsh and
Finnish, until 1913, when he swiftly though not without difficulty picked up
the threads of his relationship with Edith. He then obtained a disappointing
second class degree in Honour Moderations, the “midway” stage of a 4-year
Oxford “Greats” (i.e. Classics) course, although with an “alpha plus” in
philology. As a result of this he changed his school from Classics to the more
congenial English Language and Literature. One of the poems he discovered in
the course of his Old English studies was the Crist of Cynewulf – he was
amazed especially by the cryptic couplet:
Eálá Earendel engla
beorhtast
Ofer middangeard monnum
sended
Which translates as:
Hail Earendel brightest of
angels,
over Middle Earth sent to
men.
(“Middangeard” was
an ancient expression for the everyday world between Heaven above and Hell
below.)
This inspired some of his
very early and inchoate attempts at realising a world of ancient beauty in his
versifying.
In the summer of 1913 he
took a job as tutor and escort to two Mexican boys in Dinard, France, a job
which ended in tragedy. Though no fault of Ronald’s, it did nothing to counter
his apparent predisposition against France and things French.
Meanwhile the relationship
with Edith was going more smoothly. She converted to Catholicism and moved to
Warwick, which with its spectacular castle and beautiful surrounding
countryside made a great impression on Ronald. However, as the pair were
becoming ever closer, the nations were striving ever more furiously together,
and war eventually broke out in August 1914.
War, Lost Tales and Academia
Unlike so many of his
contemporaries, Tolkien did not rush to join up immediately on the outbreak of
war, but returned to Oxford, where he worked hard and finally achieved a
first-class degree in June 1915. At this time he was also working on various
poetic attempts, and on his invented languages, especially one that he came to
call Qenya [sic], which was heavily influenced by Finnish – but he still
felt the lack of a connecting thread to bring his vivid but disparate
imaginings together. Tolkien finally enlisted as a second lieutenant in the
Lancashire Fusiliers whilst working on ideas of Earendel [sic] the
Mariner, who became a star, and his journeyings. For many months Tolkien was
kept in boring suspense in England, mainly in Staffordshire. Finally it
appeared that he must soon embark for France, and he and Edith married in
Warwick on 22 March 1916.
Eventually he was indeed
sent to active duty on the Western Front, just in time for the Somme offensive.
After four months in and out of the trenches, he succumbed to “trench fever”, a
form of typhus-like infection common in the insanitary conditions, and in early
November was sent back to England, where he spent the next month in hospital in
Birmingham. By Christmas he had recovered sufficiently to stay with Edith at
Great Haywood in Staffordshire.
During these last few
months, all but one of his close friends of the “T. C. B. S.” had been killed
in action. Partly as an act of piety to their memory, but also stirred by
reaction against his war experiences, he had already begun to put his stories
into shape, “… in huts full of blasphemy and smut, or by candle light in
bell-tents, even some down in dugouts under shell fire” [Letters
66]. This ordering of his imagination developed into the Book of Lost Tales
(not published in his lifetime), in which most of the major stories of the
Silmarillion appear in their first form: tales of the Elves and the “Gnomes”,
(i. e. Deep Elves, the later Noldor), with their languages Qenya and Goldogrin.
Here are found the first recorded versions of the wars against Morgoth, the
siege and fall of Gondolin and Nargothrond, and the tales of Túrin and of Beren
and Lúthien.
Throughout 1917 and 1918
his illness kept recurring, although periods of remission enabled him to do
home service at various camps sufficiently well to be promoted to lieutenant.
It was when he was stationed in the Hull area that he and Edith went walking in
the woods at nearby Roos, and there in a grove thick with hemlock Edith danced
for him. This was the inspiration for the tale of Beren and Lúthien, a
recurrent theme in his “Legendarium”. He came to think of Edith as “Lúthien”
and himself as “Beren”. Their first son, John Francis Reuel (later Father John
Tolkien) had already been born on 16 November 1917.
When the Armistice was
signed on 11 November 1918, Tolkien had already been putting out feelers to
obtain academic employment, and by the time he was demobilised he had been
appointed Assistant Lexicographer on the New English Dictionary (the “Oxford
English Dictionary”), then in preparation. While doing the serious philological
work involved in this, he also gave one of his Lost Tales its first
public airing – he read The Fall of Gondolin to the Exeter College Essay
Club, where it was well received by an audience which included Neville Coghill
and Hugo Dyson, two future “Inklings”. However, Tolkien did not stay in this
job for long. In the summer of 1920 he applied for the quite senior post of
Reader (approximately, Associate Professor) in English Language at the
University of Leeds, and to his surprise was appointed.
At Leeds as well as
teaching he collaborated with E. V. Gordon on the famous edition of Sir
Gawain and the Green Knight, and continued writing and refining The Book
of Lost Tales and his invented “Elvish” languages. In addition, he and
Gordon founded a “Viking Club” for undergraduates devoted mainly to reading Old
Norse sagas and drinking beer. It was for this club that he and Gordon
originally wrote their Songs for the Philologists, a mixture of traditional
songs and original verses translated into Old English, Old Norse and Gothic to
fit traditional English tunes. Leeds also saw the birth of two more sons:
Michael Hilary Reuel in October 1920, and Christopher Reuel in 1924. Then in
1925 the Rawlinson and Bosworth Professorship of Anglo-Saxon at Oxford fell
vacant; Tolkien successfully applied for the post.
Professor Tolkien, The Inklings and Hobbits
In a sense, in
returning to Oxford as a Professor, Tolkien had come home. Although he had few
illusions about the academic life as a haven of unworldly scholarship (see for
example Letters 250), he was nevertheless by temperament a don’s don,
and fitted extremely well into the largely male world of teaching, research,
the comradely exchange of ideas and occasional publication. In fact, his
academic publication record is very sparse, something that would have been
frowned upon in these days of quantitative personnel evaluation.
However, his rare scholarly
publications were often extremely influential, most notably his lecture
“Beowulf, the Monsters and the Critics”. His seemingly almost throwaway
comments have sometimes helped to transform the understanding of a particular
field – for example, in his essay on “English and Welsh”, with its explanation
of the origins of the term “Welsh” and its references to phonaesthetics (both
these pieces are collected in The Monsters and the Critics and Other Essays,
currently in print). His academic life was otherwise largely unremarkable. In
1945 he changed his chair to the Merton Professorship of English Language and
Literature, which he retained until his retirement in 1959. Apart from all the
above, he taught undergraduates, and played an important but unexceptional part
in academic politics and administration.
His family life was equally
straightforward. Edith bore their last child and only daughter, Priscilla, in
1929. Tolkien got into the habit of writing the children annual illustrated
letters as if from Santa Claus, and a selection of these was published in 1976
as The Father Christmas Letters. He also told them numerous bedtime
stories, of which more anon. In adulthood John entered the priesthood, Michael
and Christopher both saw war service in the Royal Air Force. Afterwards Michael
became a schoolmaster and Christopher a university lecturer, and Priscilla
became a social worker. They lived quietly in North Oxford, and later Ronald
and Edith lived in the suburb of Headington.
However, Tolkien’s social
life was far from unremarkable. He soon became one of the founder members of a
loose grouping of Oxford friends (by no means all at the University) with
similar interests, known as “The Inklings”. The origins of the name were purely
facetious – it had to do with writing, and sounded mildly Anglo-Saxon; there
was no evidence that members of the group claimed to have an “inkling” of the
Divine Nature, as is sometimes suggested. Other prominent members included the
above-mentioned Messrs Coghill and Dyson, as well as Owen Barfield, Charles
Williams, and above all C. S. Lewis, who became one of Tolkien’s closest
friends, and for whose return to Christianity Tolkien was at least partly
responsible. The Inklings regularly met for conversation, drink, and frequent
reading from their work-in-progress.
The Storyteller
Meanwhile Tolkien continued
developing his mythology and languages. As mentioned above, he told his
children stories, some of which he developed into those published posthumously
as Mr. Bliss, Roverandom, etc. However, according to his own
account, one day when he was engaged in the soul-destroying task of marking
examination papers, he discovered that one candidate had left one page of an
answer-book blank. On this page, moved by who knows what anarchic daemon, he
wrote “In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit“.
In typical Tolkien fashion,
he then decided he needed to find out what a Hobbit was, what sort of a hole it
lived in, why it lived in a hole, etc. From this investigation grew a tale that
he told to his younger children, and even passed round. In 1936 an incomplete
typescript of it came into the hands of Susan Dagnall, an employee of the
publishing firm of George Allen and Unwin (merged in 1990 with HarperCollins).
She asked Tolkien to finish
it, and presented the complete story to Stanley Unwin, the then Chairman of the
firm. He tried it out on his 10-year old son Rayner, who wrote an approving
report, and it was published as The Hobbit in 1937. It immediately
scored a success, and has not been out of children’s recommended reading lists
ever since. It was so successful that Stanley Unwin asked if he had any more
similar material available for publication.
By this time Tolkien had
begun to make his Legendarium into what he believed to be a more presentable
state, and as he later noted, hints of it had already made their way into The
Hobbit. He was now calling the full account Quenta Silmarillion, or Silmarillion
for short. He presented some of his “completed” tales to Unwin, who sent them
to his reader. The reader’s reaction was mixed: dislike of the poetry and
praise for the prose (the material was the story of Beren and Lúthien) but the
overall decision at the time was that these were not commercially publishable.
Unwin tactfully relayed this message to Tolkien, but asked him again if he was
willing to write a sequel to The Hobbit. Tolkien was disappointed at the
apparent failure of The Silmarillion, but agreed to take up the
challenge of “The New Hobbit”.
This soon developed into
something much more than a children’s story; for the highly complex 16-year history
of what became The Lord of the Rings consult the works listed below.
Suffice it to say that the now adult Rayner Unwin was deeply involved in the
later stages of this opus, dealing magnificently with a dilatory and
temperamental author who, at one stage, was offering the whole work to a
commercial rival (which rapidly backed off when the scale and nature of the
package became apparent). It is thanks to Rayner Unwin’s advocacy that we owe
the fact that this book was published at all – Andave laituvalmes! His
father’s firm decided to incur the probable loss of £1,000 for the succès
d’estime, and publish it under the title of The Lord of the Rings in
three parts during 1954 and 1955, with USA rights going to Houghton Mifflin. It
soon became apparent that both author and publishers had greatly underestimated
the work’s public appeal.
The “Cult”
The Lord of
the Rings rapidly came to public notice. It had mixed reviews, ranging from the
ecstatic (W. H. Auden, C. S. Lewis) to the damning (E. Wilson, E. Muir, P.
Toynbee) and just about everything in between. The BBC put on a drastically
condensed radio adaptation in 12 episodes on the Third Programme. In 1956 radio
was still a dominant medium in Britain, and the Third Programme was the
“intellectual” channel. So far from losing money, sales so exceeded the
break-even point as to make Tolkien regret that he had not taken early
retirement. However, this was still based only upon hardback sales.
The really amazing moment
was when The Lord of the Rings went into a pirated paperback version in
1965. Firstly, this put the book into the impulse-buying category; and
secondly, the publicity generated by the copyright dispute alerted millions of
American readers to the existence of something outside their previous
experience, but which appeared to speak to their condition. By 1968 The Lord
of the Rings had almost become the Bible of the “Alternative Society”.
This development produced
mixed feelings in the author. On the one hand, he was extremely flattered, and
to his amazement, became rather rich. On the other, he could only deplore those
whose idea of a great trip was to ingest The Lord of the Rings and LSD
simultaneously. Arthur C. Clarke and Stanley Kubrick had similar experiences
with 2001: A Space Odyssey. Fans were causing increasing problems; both
those who came to gawp at his house and those, especially from California who
telephoned at 7 p.m. (their time – 3 a.m. his), to demand to know whether Frodo
had succeeded or failed in the Quest, what was the preterite of Quenyan lanta-,
or whether or not Balrogs had wings. So he changed addresses, his telephone
number went ex-directory, and eventually he and Edith moved to Bournemouth, a
pleasant but uninspiring South Coast resort (Hardy’s “Sandbourne”), noted for
the number of its elderly well-to-do residents.
Meanwhile the cult, not
just of Tolkien, but of the fantasy literature that he had revived, if not
actually inspired (to his dismay), was really taking off – but that is another
story, to be told in another place.
Other Writings
Despite all the fuss over The
Lord of the Rings, between 1925 and his death Tolkien did write and publish
a number of other articles, including a range of scholarly essays, many
reprinted in The Monsters and the Critics and Other Essays (see above);
one Middle-earth related work, The Adventures of Tom Bombadil; editions
and translations of Middle English works such as the Ancrene Wisse, Sir
Gawain, Sir Orfeo and The Pearl, and some stories independent
of the Legendarium, such as the Imram, The Homecoming of Beorhtnoth
Beorhthelm’s Son, The Lay of Aotrou and Itroun – and, especially, Farmer
Giles of Ham, Leaf by Niggle, and Smith of Wootton Major.
The flow of publications
was only temporarily slowed by Tolkien’s death. The long-awaited Silmarillion,
edited by Christopher Tolkien, appeared in 1977. In 1980 Christopher also
published a selection of his father’s incomplete writings from his later years
under the title of Unfinished Tales of Númenor and Middle-earth. In the
introduction to this work Christopher Tolkien referred in passing to The
Book of Lost Tales, “itself a very substantial work, of the utmost interest
to one concerned with the origins of Middle-earth, but requiring to be
presented in a lengthy and complex study, if at all” (Unfinished Tales,
p. 6, paragraph 1).
The sales of The
Silmarillion had rather taken George Allen & Unwin by surprise, and those
of Unfinished Tales even more so. Obviously, there was a market even for
this relatively abstruse material and they decided to risk embarking on this
“lengthy and complex study”. Even more lengthy and complex than expected, the
resulting 12 volumes of the History of Middle-earth, under Christopher’s
editorship, proved to be a successful enterprise. (Tolkien’s publishers had changed
hands, and names, several times between the start of the enterprise in 1983 and
the appearance of the paperback edition of Volume 12, The Peoples of
Middle-earth, in 1997.)
Finis
Edith and
Tolkien’s Grave
After his retirement in
1959 Edith and Ronald moved to Bournemouth. On 22 November 1971 Edith died, and
Ronald soon returned to Oxford, to rooms provided by Merton College. Ronald
died on 2 September 1973. He and Edith are buried together in a single grave in
the Catholic section of Wolvercote cemetery in the northern suburbs of Oxford.
(The grave is well signposted from the entrance.) The legend on the headstone
reads:
Edith Mary Tolkien,
Lúthien, 1889-1971
John Ronald Reuel Tolkien,
Beren, 1892-1973
Written by David Doughan.
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