The copy came to this address the day before I returned hoping to get on with my proper work; I have now found time to consider it. There are one or two points which I should prefer to see altered, and some inaccuracies and misunderstandings that have, no doubt partly by my own fault, crept into the text. Among my characteristics that you have not mentioned is the fact that I am a pedant devoted to accuracy, even in what may appear to others unimportant matters. I have not had time to state these points clearly and legibly, and I hope that the revision and cutting of your article can still wait a day or two. I will try to send them off to reach you by Friday.
In one point I fear that I shall disappoint you. I am informed that the Weekend Telegraph wishes to have your article illustrated by a series of pictures taken of me at work and at home. In no circumstances will I agree to being photographed again for such a purpose. I regard all such intrusions into my privacy as an impertinence, and I can no longer afford the time for it. The irritation it causes me spreads its influence over a far greater time than the actual intrusion occupies. My work needs concentration and peace of mind.
Yours sincerely
J. R. R. Tolkien.
[The following are extracts from Tolkien's commentary, sent to Charlotte and Denis Plimmer, on the draft text of their interview with him. The passages in italics are quotations from their draft.]
the cramped garage that he uses as a study May I say that it is not a 'study', except in domestic slang: in happier days I had one. It was a hastily contrived necessity, when I was obliged to relinquish my room in college and provide a store for what I could preserve of my library. Most of the books of value have since been removed, and the most important contents are the rows of orderly files kept by my pan-time secretary. She is the only regular user of the room. I have never written any literary matter in it. ....
My present house and its location were forced on me by necessity; few even of its furnishings afford me any pleasure. I am caught here in acute discomfort ; but the dislocation of a removal and the rearrangement of my effects cannot be contemplated, until I have completed my contracted work. When and if I do so, if I am still in health, I hope to go far away to an address that will appear in no directory or reference book.
If you wonder why I received you, two courteous and charming people, in such a hole, may I say that my house has no reception room but my wife's sitting-room, filled with her personal belongings. This was contemptuously described in the New Yorker (by a visitor), and we both suffered ridicule (and worse: commiseration) when this was quoted in the London papers. Since then she has refused to admit anybody but personal friends to the room. I myself do not intend to admit anyone (certainly no photographer) to the 'bedsitter' where, in the company of the books that I really use and the files of unpublished material, I spend most of my days at home, and do such writing as I am allowed time for.
Tolkien, tall and strongly built I am not in fact tall, or strongly built. I now measure 5 ft 8, and am very slightly built, with notably small hands. For most of my life I have been very thin and underweight. Since my early sixties I have become 'tubby'. Not unusual in men who took their exercise in games and swimming, when the opportunities for these things cease.
Tolkien let a few of his Oxford friends read The Hobbit. One, the Mother Superior of a girls' hostel, lent it to a student, Susan Dagnall....
The Rev. Mother was superior of a convent (of the order of the Holy Child) at Cherwell Edge, which among other functions kept a hostel for women undergraduates. But as I know it the story runs so: Miss M. E. Griffiths (now one of the senior members of the English Faculty) was beginning her work as a tutor in English Language; she had been a pupil of mine, and was a friend of my family. I lent her the typescript of The Hobbit. She lent it to Susan Dagnall, a pupil of hers, who lived in the hostel. Susan lent it to the Rev. Mother to amuse her during convalescence from influenza. Whether it amused her or not, I never heard, so she is a side-track in the journey of the MS. Neither of the loans, to Susan or to the Rev. Mother, were authorized by me I did not think the MS. important but they proved the foundation of my good fortune in connecting me with Allen and Unwin. I have always been undeservedly lucky at major points. It is sad that Miss Dagnall, to whom in the event I owe so much, was, I believe, killed in a car-accident not long after her marriage.
[The Silmarillion] was turned down [by Allen & Unwin] as being too dark and Celtic.
A & U's readers were quite right in turning it down; not (I hope) because it was, as they said 'too dark and Celtic for modern Anglo-Saxons', since it retains the character thus misdescribed, as does much of The Lord of the Rings; but because it needed re-writing and more thought. Most of it was very early work, going back to 1916 and in inception earlier.
Middle-earth grew out of Tolkien's predilection for creating languages....
This reference to 'invention of Language' has become, I think, confused. My fault, in introducing too casually complex matters and personal theories, better not touched on unless at greater length than would be suitable (or interesting) in such an article. For the matter is not really pertinent: the amusement of making up languages is very common among children (I once wrote a paper on it, called A Secret Vice), so that I am not peculiar in that respect. The process sometimes continues into adult life, but then is usually kept a secret; though I have heard of cases where a language of this sort107 has been used by a group (e.g. in a pseudo-religious ritual).
In your paragraph there is a missing link, more important (I think) for the purpose than what I said, or should have said, about 'invention'. Namely: how did linguistic invention lead to imaginary history? So that I think the passage would be more intelligible if it ran more or less so: 'The imaginary histories grew out of Tolkien's predilection for inventing languages. He discovered, as others have who carry out such inventions to any degree of completion, that a language requires a suitable habitation, and a history in which it can develop.'
'When you invent a language, ' he said, 'you more or less catch it out of the air. You say boo-hoo and that means something. '
I have of course no precise memory of just what I said, but what is here written seems to me odd, since I think it unlikely that I should intentionally have said things contrary to my considered opinions. I do not think that an inventor catches noises out of the air. If said it was a conversational bit of 'short-talk', possibly intelligible at the moment, but not in cold print meaning that he utters an articulate sound-group at random (so far as he is aware); but it comes of course out of his linguistic equipment and has innumerable threads of connexion with other similar-sounding 'words' in his own language and any others that he may know. Even so, if he said boo-hoo it would not mean anything. No vocal noises mean anything in themselves. Meaning has to be attributed to them by a human mind.108 This may be done casually, often by accidental (non-linguistic) associations; or because of a feeling for 'phonetic fitness' and/or because of preferences in the individual for certain phonetic elements or combinations. The latter is naturally most evident in private invented languages, since it is one of their main objects, recognized or unconscious, to give effect to these likings. It is these preferences, reflecting an individual's innate linguistic taste, that I called his 'native language'; though 'native linguistic potential' would have been more accurate, since it seldom comes to effect, even in modifying his 'first-learnt' language, that of his parents and country.
Middle-earth .... corresponds spiritually to Nordic Europe.
Not Nordic, please! A word I personally dislike; it is associated, though of French origin, with racialist theories. Geographically Northern is usually better. But examination will show that even this is inapplicable (geographically or spiritually) to 'Middle-earth'. This is an old word, not invented by me, as reference to a dictionary such as the Shorter Oxford will show. It meant the habitable lands of our world, set amid the surrounding Ocean. The action of the story takes place in the North-west of 'Middle-earth', equivalent in latitude to the coastlands of Europe and the north shores of the Mediterranean. But this is not a purely 'Nordic' area in any sense. If Hobbiton and Rivendell are taken (as intended) to be at about the latitude of Oxford, then Minas Tirith, 600 miles south, is at about the latitude of Florence. The Mouths of Anduin and the ancient city of Pelargir are at about the latitude of ancient Troy.
Auden has asserted that for me 'the North is a sacred direction'. That is not true. The North-west of Europe, where I (and most of my ancestors) have lived, has my affection, as a man's home should. I love its atmosphere, and know more of its histories and languages than I do of other pans; but it is not 'sacred', nor does it exhaust my affections. I have, for instance, a particular love for the Latin language, and among its descendants for Spanish. That it is untrue for my story, a mere reading of the synopses should show. The North was the seat of the fortresses of the Devil. The progress of the tale ends in what is far more like the re-establishment of an effective Holy Roman Empire with its seat in Rome than anything that would be devised by a 'Nordic'.
[Of C. S. Lewis's comments on The Lord of the Rings:] 'When he would say, "You can do better than that. Better, Tolkien, please!" I would try. I'd sit down and write the section over and over. That happened with the scene I think is the best in the book, the confrontation between Gandalf and his rival wizard, Saruman, in the ravaged city of Isengard. '
I do not think the Saruman passage 'the best in the book'. It is much better than the first draft, that is all. I mentioned the passage because it is in fact one of the very few places where in the event I found L's detailed criticisms useful and just. I cut out some passages of light-hearted hobbit conversation which he found tiresome, thinking that if he did most other readers (if any) would feel the same. I do not think the event has proved him right. To tell the truth he never really liked hobbits very much, least of all Merry and Pippin. But a great number of readers do, and would like more than they have got. (If it is of interest, the passages that now move me most written so long ago that I read them now as if they had been written by someone else are the end of the chapter Lothlrien (I 365-7), and the horns of the Rohirrim at cockcrow.) His taste for Nordic languages stems from the fact that he had German ancestors who migrated to England two centuries ago.
This is the reverse of the truth. Not Nordic: this is not a linguistic term. Germanic is the received term for what appears to be meant. But my taste for Germanic languages has no traceable connexion with the history of my surname. After 150 years (now 200) my father and his immediate kin were extremely 'British'. Neither among them nor others of the name whom I have since met have I found any who showed any linguistic interests, or any knowledge of even modern German. My interest in languages was derived solely from my mother, a Suffield (a family coming from Evesham in Worcestershire). She knew German, and gave me my first lessons in it. She was also interested in etymology, and aroused my interest in this; and also in alphabets and handwriting. My father died in South Africa in 1896. She died in 1904. Two years before her death I had with her sole tuition109 gained a scholarship to King Edward VI School in Birmingham.
Dante .... 'doesn't attract me. He's full of spite and malice. I don't care for his petty relations with petty people in petty cities. '
My reference to Dante was outrageous. I do not seriously dream of being measured against Dante, a supreme poet. At one time Lewis and I used to read him to one another. I was for a while a member of the Oxford Dante Society (I think at the proposal of Lewis, who overestimated greatly my scholarship in Dante or Italian generally). It remains true that I found the 'pettiness' that I spoke of a sad blemish in places.
'I don't read much now, except for fairy-stories.'
For 'except' read 'not even'. I read quite a lot or more truly, try to read many books (notably so-called Science Fiction and Fantasy). But I seldom find any modern books that hold my attention.110 I suppose because I am under 'inner' pressure to complete my own work and because of the reason stated [in the interview]: 'I am looking for something I can't find.'
'I'm always looking for something Ican't find..... Something like what I wrote myself. There's nothing like being vain, is there?'
An apology for seeming to speak out of vanity. Actually this arose in humility, my own and Lewis's. The humility of amateurs in a world of great writers. L. said to me one day: 'Tollers, there is too little of what we really like in stories. I am afraid we shall have to try and write some ourselves.' We agreed that he should try 'space-travel', and I should try 'time-travel'. His result is well known. My effort, after a few promising chapters, ran dry: it was too long a way round to what I really wanted to make, a new version of the Atlantis legend. The final scene survives as The Downfall of Nmenor. This attracted Lewis greatly (as heard read), and reference to it occurs in several places in his works: e.g. 'The Last of the Wine', in his poems (Poems, 1964, p. 40). We neither of us expected much success as amateurs, and actually Lewis had some difficulty in getting Out of the Silent Planet published. And after all that has happened since, the most lasting pleasure and reward for both of us has been that we provided one another with stories to hear or read that we really liked in large parts. Naturally neither of us liked all that we found in the other's fiction.
Tolkien... is among the 'principal collaborators' of the newly-translated Jerusalem Bible.
Naming me among the 'principal collaborators' was an undeserved courtesy on the part of the editor of the Jerusalem Bible. I was consulted on one or two points of style, and criticized some contributions of others. I was originally assigned a large amount of text to translate, but after doing some necessary preliminary work I was obliged to resign owing to pressure of other work, and only completed 'Jonah', one of the shortest books.
295 To W.H.Auden
[Auden had written to praise Tolkien for the poem in Anglo-Saxon which Tolkien had contributed (together with a version in modern English) to the journal Shenandoah as part of a festschrift for Auden's sixtieth birthday. (It was published in the Winter 1967 issue (Vol. XVIII no. 2, pp. 96-7).) In his letter, Auden had praised Tolkien's poem 'The Sea-bell' ('Frodo's Dreme'), which he called 'wonderful'.]
29 March 1967 76 Sandfield Road, Headington, Oxford Dear Wystan, I was equally delighted by your letter. It arrived very quickly (on Good Friday) and it did much to restore my spirits, as by the same post I received a very distressing letter. I was greatly cheered not only by your pleasure in having an Old English poem (I thought this would be appropriate) but also by your praise of Frodo's Dreme. That really made me wag my tail. I hope we can meet again soon.
Yours ever,
[signature not on carbon]
P.S. Thank you for your wonderful effort in translating and reorganising The Song of the Sibyl. In return again I hope to send you, if I can lay my hands on it (I hope it isn't lost), a thing I did many years ago when trying to learn the an of writing alliterative poetry: an attempt to unify the lays about the Vlsungs from the Elder Edda, written in the old eight-line fornyrislag stanza.
296 To Rayner Unwin
21 July 1967 Hotel Miramar, Bournemouth My dear Rayner, I feel deeply grateful for your kindness to me on Wednesday, and all the trouble you took in looking after me and my affairs. I thought you looked very tired (and no wonder) before we parted. I am singularly fortunate in having such a friend. I feel, if I may say so, that our relations are like that of Rohan and Gondor, and (as you know) for my part the oath of Eorl will never be broken, and I shall continue to rely on and be grateful for the wisdom and courtesy of Minas Tirith. Thank you very much indeed.....
Yours ever
Ronald Tolkien.
297 Drafts for a letter to 'Mr Rang'
[At the top, Tolkien has written: 'Some reflections in preparing an answer to a letter from one Mr Rang about investigations into my nomenclature. In the event only a brief (and therefore rather severe) reply was sent, but I retain these notes.' Tolkien has added the date: 'Aug. 1967.']
I am honoured by the interest that many readers have taken in the nomenclature of The Lord of the Rings; and pleased by it, in so far as it shows that this construction, the product of very considerable thought and labour, has achieved (as I hoped) a verisimilitude, which assists probably in the 'literary belief in the story as historical. But I remain puzzled, and indeed sometimes irritated, by many of the guesses at the 'sources' of the nomenclature, and theories or fancies concerning hidden meanings. These seem to me no more than private amusements, and as such I have no right or power to object to them, though they are, I think, valueless for the elucidation or interpretation of my fiction. If published,111 I do object to them, when (as they usually do) they appear to be unauthentic embroideries on my work, throwing light only on the state of mind of their contrivers, not on me or on my actual intention and procedure. Many of them seem to show ignorance or disregard of the clues and information which are provided in notes, renderings, and in the Appendices. Also since linguistic invention is, as an art (or pastime) comparatively rare, it is perhaps not surprising that they show little understanding of the process of how a philologist would go about it.
It must be emphasized that this process of invention was/is a private enterprise undertaken to give pleasure to myself by giving expression to my personal linguistic 'aesthetic' or taste and its fluctuations. It was largely antecedent to the composing of legends and 'histories' in which these languages could be 'realized'; and the bulk of the nomenclature is constructed from these pre-existing languages, and where the resulting names have analysable meanings (as is usual) these are relevant solely to the fiction with which they are integrated. The 'source', if any, provided solely the sound-sequence (or suggestions for its stimulus) and its purport in the source is totally irrelevant except in case of Earendil; see below.
Investigators seem commonly to neglect this fundamental point, although sufficient evidence of 'linguistic construction' is provided in the book and in the appendices. It should be obvious that if it is possible to compose fragments of verse in Quenya and Sindarin, those languages (and their relations one to another) must have reached a fairly high degree of organization though of course, far from completeness, either in vocabulary, or in idiom. It is therefore idle to compare chance-similarities between names made from 'Elvish tongues' and words in exterior 'real' languages, especially if this is supposed to have any bearing on the meaning or ideas in my story. To take a frequent case: there is no linguistic connexion, and therefore no connexion in significance, between Sauron a contemporary form of an older *aurond- derivative of an adjectival *aur (from a base THAW) 'detestable', and the Greek 'a lizard'.
Investigators, indeed, seem mostly confused in mind between (a) the meaning of names within, and appropriate to, my story and belonging to a fictional 'historic' construction, and (b) the origins or sources in my mind, exterior to the story, of the forms of these names. As to (a) they are of course given sufficient information, though they often neglect what is provided. I regret it, but there is no substitute for me, while I am alive. I have composed a commentary on the nomenclature for the use of translators; but this is directed primarily to indicating what words and names can and should be translated into L(anguage) of T(ranslation) which takes over the function from English of representing the C(ommon) S(peech) of the period, it being understood that names not in or derived from mod. English should be retained without change in translation, since they are alien both to the original C.S. and to the L.T. Desirable would be an onomasticon giving the meaning and derivation of all names and indicating the languages that they belong to. Also of interest to some, and agreeable to me, would be an historical grammar of Quenya and Sindarin and a fairly extensive etymological vocabulary of these languages of course far from 'complete', but not limited to words found in the tales. But I do not intend to engage in these projects, until my mythology and legends are completed. Meanwhile dealing piecemeal with guesses and interpretations only postpones and interferes with this work.....
In illustration of my strictures, I will offer some comments on your specific queries and guesses. Theoden and Gimli. The reason for using 'Anglo-Saxon' in the nomenclature and occasional glimpses of the language of the Eorlingas as a device of 'translation' is given in Appendix F. From which it follows that 'Anglo-Saxon' is not only a 'fertile field', but the sole112 field in which to look for the origin and meaning of words or names belonging to the speech of the Mark; and also that A-S will not be the source of words and names in any other language113 except for a few (all of which are explained) survivals in Hobbit-dialect derived from the region (The Vale of Anduin to the immediate north of Lrien) where that dialect of the Northmen developed its particular character. To which may be added Deagol and Smeagol; and the local names Gladden River, and the Gladden Fields, which contains A.S. gldene 'iris', in my book supposed to refer to the 'yellow flag' growing in streams and marshes: sc. iris pseudacorus, and not iris foetidissima to which in mod. E. the name gladdon (sic) is usually given, at any rate by botanists. Outside this restricted field reference to A-S is entirely delusory.114 As stated in the Appendices the 'outer' public names of the northern Dwarves were derived from the language of men in the far north not from that variety represented by A.S., and in consequence are given Scandinavian shape, as rough equivalents of the kinship and divergence of the contemporary dialects. A-S will have nothing to say about Gimli. Actually the poetic word gim in archaic O.N. verse is probably not related to gimm (an early loan < Latin gemma) 'gem', though possibly it was later associated with it: its meaning seems to have been 'fire'.
Legolas is translated Greenleaf (II 106, 154) a suitable name for a Woodland Elf, though one of royal and originally Sindarin line. 'Fiery locks' is entirely inappropriate: he was not a balrog! I think an investigator, not led astray by my supposed devotion to A-S, might have perceived the relation of the element -las to lassi 'leaves', in Galadriel's lament, lasse-lanta 'leaf-fall' = autumn. III 386; and Eryn Lasgalen III 375. 'Technically' Legolas is a compound (according to rules) of S. laeg 'viridis' fresh and green, and go-lass 'collection of leaves, foliage'.
Rohan. I cannot understand why the name of a country (stated to be Elvish) should be associated with anything Germanic; still less with the only remotely similar O.N. rann 'house', which is incidentally not at all appropriate to a still partly mobile and nomadic people of horse-breeders! In their language (as represented) rann in any case would have the A-S form rn ( Nazgul. There is no conceivable reason why a word from the Black Speech should have any connexions with A-S. It means 'Ring-wraith', and the element nazg is surely plainly identical with nazg 'ring' in the fiery inscription on the One Ring. I do not know any O.E. compound gael-naes, but in any case an inventor, engaged in rational linguistic constructions would not supplement a failure in inventiveness by reversing the order of elements in a word of a totally unconnected language, which had no appropriate meaning! Moria. Your remarks make me suspect that you are confusing Moria with Mordor: the latter was a desolate land, the former a magnificent complex of underground excavations. As to Moria you are told what it means. III 415, and that is an Elvish (actually Sindarin) name = Black Chasm. Does it not plainly contain the MOR 'dark, black', seen in Mordor, Morgoth, Morannon, Morgul etc. (technically MOR: *mori 'dark(ness)' = Q. more, S. mr; adj. *morn = Q. morna, S. morn 'dark'.) The ia is from Sind. i 'void, abyss' (YAG: *yag > S. i). As for the 'land of Morah' (note stress): that has no connexion (even 'externally') whatsoever. Internally there is no conceivable connexion between the mining of Dwarves, and the story of Abraham. I utterly repudiate any such significances and symbolisms. My mind does not work that way; and (in my view) you are led astray by a purely fortuitous similarity, more obvious in spelling than speech, which cannot be justified from the real intended significance of my story. This leads to the matter of 'external' history: the actual way in which I came to light on or choose certain sequences of sound to use as names, before they were given a place inside the story. I think, as I said, this is unimportant: the labour involved in my setting out what I know and remember of the process, or in the guess-work of others, would be far greater than the worth of the results. The spoken forms would simply be mere audible forms, and when transferred to the prepared linguistic situation in my story would receive meaning and significance according to that situation, and to the nature of the story told. It would be entirely delusory to refer to the sources of the sound-combinations to discover any meanings overt or hidden. I remember much of this process the influence of memory of names or words already known, or of 'echoes' in the linguistic memory, and few have been unconscious. Thus the names of the Dwarves in The Hobbit (and additions in the L.R.) are derived from the lists in Vlusp of the names of dvergar; but this is no key to the dwarf-legends in The L.R. The 'dwarves' of my legends are far nearer to the dwarfs of Germanic [legends] than are the Elves, but still in many ways very different from them. The legends of their dealings with Elves (and Men) in The Silmarillion, and in The L.R., and of the Orc-dwarf wars have no counterpart known to me. In Vlusp, Eikinskjaldi rendered Oakenshield is a separate name, not a nickname; and the use of the name as a surname and the legend of its origin will not be found in Norse. Gandalfr is a dwarf-name in Vlusp! Rohan is a famous name, from Brittany, borne by an ancient proud and powerful family. I was aware of this, and liked its shape; but I had also (long before) invented the Elvish horse-word, and saw how Rohan could be accommodated to the linguistic situation as a late Sindarin name of the Mark (previously called Calenaron 'the (great) green region') after its occupation by horsemen. Nothing in the history of Brittany will throw any light on the Eorlingas. Incidentally the ending -and (an), -end (en) in land-names no doubt owes something to such (romantic and other) names as Broceliand(e), but is perfectly in keeping with an already devised structure of primitive (common) Elvish (C.E.), or it would not have been used. The element (n)dor 'land', probably owes something to say such names as Labrador (a name that might as far as style and structure goes be Sindarin). But not to Scriptural Endor. This is a case in reverse, showing how 'investigation' without knowledge of the real events might go astray. Endor S. Ennor (cf. the collective pl. ennorath I 250) was invented as the Elvish equivalent of Middle-earth by combining the already devised en(ed) 'middle' and (n)dor 'land (mass)', producing a supposedly ancient compound Q. Endor, S. Ennor. When made I of course observed its accidental likeness to En-dor (I Sam. xxviii), but the congruence is in fact accidental, and therefore the necromantic witch consulted by Saul has no connexion or significance for The L.R. As is the case with Moria. In fact this first appeared in The Hobbit chap. 1. It was there, as I remember, a casual 'echo' of Soria Moria Castle in one of the Scandinavian tales translated by Dasent. (The tale had no interest for me: I had already forgotten it and have never since looked at it. It was thus merely the source of the sound-sequence moria, which might have been found or composed elsewhere.) I liked the sound-sequence; it alliterated with 'mines', and it connected itself with the MOR element in my linguistic construction.115 I may mention two cases where I was not, at the time of making use of them, aware of 'borrowing', but where it is probable, but by no means certain, that the names were nonetheless 'echoes'. Erech, the place where Isildur set the covenant-stone. This of course fits the style of the predominantly Sindarin nomenclature of Gondor (or it would not have been used), as it would do historically, even if it was, as it is now convenient to suppose, actually a pre-Nmenrean name of long-forgotten meaning. Since naturally, as one interested in antiquity and notably in the history of languages and 'writing', I knew and had read a good deal about Mesopotamia, I must have known Erech the name of that most ancient city. Nonetheless at the time of writing L.R. Book V chs. II and IX (originally a continuous narrative, but divided for obvious constructional reasons) and devising a legend to provide for the separation of Aragorn from Gandalf, and his disappearance and unexpected return, I was probably more influenced by the important element ER (in Elvish) = 'one, single, alone'. In any case the fact that Erech is a famous name is of no importance to The L.R. and no connexions in my mind or intention between Mesopotamia and the Nmenreans or their predecessors can be deduced. nazg: the word for 'ring' m the Black Speech. This was devised to be a vocable as distinct in style and phonetic content from words of the same meaning in Elvish, or in other real languages that are most familiar: English, Latin, Greek, etc. Though actual congruences (of form + sense) occur in unrelated real languages, and it is impossible in constructing imaginary languages from a limited number of component sounds to avoid such resemblances (if one tries to 1 do not), it remains remarkable that nasc is the word for 'ring' in Gaelic (Irish: in Scottish usually written nasg). It also fits well in meaning, since it also means, and prob. originally meant, a bond, and can be used for an 'obligation'. Nonetheless I only became aware, or again aware, of its existence recently in looking for something in a Gaelic dictionary. I have no liking at all for Gaelic from Old Irish downwards, as a language, but it is of course of great historical and philological interest, and I have at various times studied it. (With alas! very little success.) It is thus probable that nazg is actually derived from it, and this short, hard and clear vocable, sticking out from what seems to me (an unloving alien) a mushy language, became lodged in some comer of my linguistic memory. The most important name in this connexion is Erendil. This name is in fact (as is obvious) derived from A-S earendel. When first studying A-S professionally (1913 ) I had done so as a boyish hobby when supposed to be learning Greek and Latin I was struck by the great beauty of this word (or name), entirely coherent with the normal style of A-S, but euphonic to a peculiar degree in that pleasing but not 'delectable' language. Also its form strongly suggests that it is in origin a proper name and not a common noun. This is borne out by the obviously related forms in other Germanic languages; from which amid the confusions and debasements of late traditions it at least seems certain that it belonged to astronomical-myth, and was the name of a star or star-group. To my mind the A-S uses116 seem plainly to indicate that it was a star presaging the dawn (at any rate in English tradition) : that is what we now call Venus: the morning-star as it may be seen shining brilliantly in the dawn, before the actual rising of the Sun. That is at any rate how I took it. Before 1914 I wrote a 'poem' upon Earendel who launched his ship like a bright spark from the havens of the Sun. I adopted him into my mythology in which he became a prime figure as a mariner, and eventually as a herald star, and a sign of hope to men. Aiya Erendil Elenion Ancalima (II 329) 'hail Earendil brightest of Stars' is derived at long remove from eala earendel engla beorhtast. But the name could not be adopted just like that: it had to be accommodated to the Elvish linguistic situation, at the same time as a place for this person was made in legend. From this, far back in the history of 'Elvish', which was beginning, after many tentative starts in boyhood, to take definite shape at the time of the name's adoption, arose eventually (a) the C.E. stem *AYAR 'Sea'117, primarily applied to the Great Sea of the West, lying between Middle-earth, and Aman the Blessed Realm of the Valar; and (b) the element, or verbal base (N)DIL, 'to love, be devoted to' describing the attitude of one to a person, thing, course or occupation to which one is devoted for its own sake.118Earendil became a character in the earliest written (1916-17) of the major legends: The Fall of Gondolin, the greatest of the Pereldar 'Half-elven', son of Tuor of the most renowned House of the Edain, and Idril daughter of the King of Gondolin. Tuor had been visited by Ulmo one of the greatest Valar, the lord of seas and waters, and sent by him to Gondolin. The visitation had set in Tuor's heart an insatiable sea-longing, hence the choice of name for his son, to whom this longing was transmitted. For the linking of this legend with the other major legends: the making of the Silmarils by Fanor, their seizure by Morgoth, and the recapture of one only from his crown by Beren and Lthien, and the coming of this into Earendil's possession so that his voyages westward were at last successful, see 1204-6 and 246-249. (The attempt of Erendil to cross ar was against the Ban of the Valar prohibiting all Men to attempt to set foot on Aman, and against the later special ban prohibiting the Exiled Elves, followers of the rebellious Fanor, from return: referred to in Galadriel's lament. The Valar listened to the pleading of Erendil on behalf of Elves and Men (both his kin), and sent a great host to their aid. Morgoth was overthrown and extruded from the World (the physical universe). The Exiles were allowed to return - save for a few chief actors in the rebellion of whom at the time of the L. R. only Galadriel remained.119 But Erendil, being in part descended from Men, was not allowed to set foot on Earth again, and became a Star shining with the light of the Silmaril, which contained the last remnant of the unsullied light of Paradise, given by the Two Trees before their defilement and slaying by Morgoth. These legends are deliberately touched on in Vol. I as being the chief ones in the background of The L.R., dealing with the relations of Elves and Men and Valar (the angelic Guardians) and therefore the chief backward links if (as I then hoped) the Silmarillion was published. I relate these things because I hope they may interest you, and at the same time reveal how closely linked is linguistic invention and legendary growth and construction. And also possibly convince you that looking around for more or less similar words or names is not in fact very useful even as a source of sounds, and not at all as an explanation of inner meanings and significances. The borrowing, when it occurs (not often) is simply of sounds that are then integrated in a new construction; and only in one case Erendil will reference to its source cast any light on the legends or their 'meaning' and even in this case the light is little. The use of earendel in A-S Christian symbolism as the herald of the rise of the true Sun in Christ is completely alien to my use. The Fall of Man is in the past and off stage; the Redemption of Man in the far future. We are in a time when the One God, Eru, is known to exist by the wise, but is not approachable save by or through the Valar, though He is still remembered in (unspoken) prayer by those of Nmenrean descent. [The text ends with a brief discussion of Nmenrean religion.] 298 To William Luther White [This letter was printed, apparently without permission, with Tolkien's address and private telephone number at the head of it, in white's book The Image of Man in C. S. Lewis (1969).] 11 September, 1967. 76 Sandfield Road, Headington, Oxford Oxford 61639 Dear Mr. White, I can give you a brief account of the name Inklings: from memory. The Inklings had no recorder and C. S. Lewis no Boswell. The name was not invented by C.S.L. (nor by me). In origin it was an undergraduate jest, devised as the name of a literary (or writers') club. The founder was an undergraduate at University College, named Tangye-Lean,- the date I do not remember: probably mid-thirties. He was, I think, more aware than most undergraduates of the impermanence of their clubs and fashions, and had an ambition to found a club that would prove more lasting. Anyway, he asked some 'dons' to become members. C. S. L. was an obvious choice, and he was probably at that time Tangye-Lean's tutor (C.S.L. was a member of University College). In the event both C.S.L. and I became members. The club met in T.-L.'s rooms in University College; its procedure was that at each meeting members should read aloud, unpublished compositions. These were supposed to be open to immediate criticism. Also if the club thought fit a contribution might be voted to be worthy of entry in a Record Book. (I was the scribe and keeper of the book). Tangye-Lean proved quite right. The club soon died: the Record Book had very few entries: but C.S.L. and I at least survived. Its name was then transferred (by C.S.L.) to the undetermined and unelected circle of friends who gathered about C.S.L., and met in his rooms in Magdalen. Although our habit was to read aloud compositions of various kinds (and lengths!), this association and its habit would in fact have come into being at that time, whether the original short-lived club had ever existed or not. C.S.L. had a passion for hearing things read aloud, a power of memory for things received in that way, and also a facility in extempore criticism, none of which were shared (especially not the last) in anything like the same degree by his friends. I called the name a 'jest', because it was a pleasantly ingenious pun in its way, suggesting people with vague or half-formed intimations and ideas plus those who dabble in ink. It might have been suggested by C.S.L. to Tangye-Lean (if he was the latter's tutor); but I never heard him claim to have invented this name. Inkling is, at any rate in this country, in very common use in the sense that you quote from C.S.L.'s writings. (I remember that when I was an undergraduate there was, briefly, an undergraduate club called the Discus, suggesting a roundtable conference, and discuss: it was a discussion club.) With best wishes,