Something never quite sat right with me in terms of Sharon's identification of the "core of the onion" - the most basic element of Tolkien's Legendarium - as primordial Englishness. I do love that Englishness, but that is for reasons I will discuss below. Though I liked Bethberry's idea better, I was not entirely satisfied with the double-core of language/legend, though I do acknowledge it as a central element. I was not, however, able to put my finger on precisely what the problem was; I was left with a gnawing dissatisfaction while bowing to Child's and Bethberry's erudition and quoted evidence. Helen's post went a long way toward helping me to piece together the puzzle. Onward:
Legend and language are indeed intertwined, but they are not at the core (onions have no core, which is probably my major problem with that analogy). There is a deeper root, a tap root, that is the source of all mythic story. Let me illustrate this in my own imaginative life.
By genetics I am half Frisian and half Dutch (Most non-Frisians would simply call me 100% Dutch; we Frisians will never concur.). Historical evidence reveals that I have a fraction of French blood on my mother's mother's side. Against all historical evidence, I'm convinced that I have Celtic blood. Nevertheless, I am American by accidents of history, and thus my native language is English.
I do not say that my native language is American. This is in part due to education, and more significantly to my early exposure and heavy cognitive and spiritual influence by C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien. Whereas Lewis says that his imagination was baptized by George MacDonald, I say that my imagination was baptized by Tolkien (and was communed with Lewis).
The reason my imagination could be baptized by Tolkien is because I am an English speaker, and am deeply rooted in all things English. Thus Tolkien's Legendarium, deeply rooted in English language and legend, is the medium par excellence to convey that Something at the tap root, to my imagination.
Helen aka Mark_ch#._v#., posting on "that other thread", described a particular kind of desire; it has a name. C.S. Lewis called it "Sennsucht". Corbin Scott Carnell, in
Bright Shadow of Reality: C.S. Lewis and the Feeling Intellect, wrote:
Quote:
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Sennsucht, which literally means "longing" or "yearning," is both romantic and mystical in our present use of those words. It is, however, a good deal more specific than such terms. ... The crucial concept in defining this attitude is best expressed in English by the word "nostalgia". Even though Sennsucht may be made up of several components or appear in different forms (melancholy, wonder, yearning, etc.), basic to its various manifestations is an underlying sense of displacement or alienation from what is desired.
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In summary, Sennsucht is desire for something wondrous that is no more with us, but once was, and may be again. In different languages it has different names. In Hebrew it is called Eden. In Arthurian legend (Celtic, I suppose) it is called Avalon. In the language of C.S. Lewis' Space Trilogy, it is perhaps called Perelandra. In Roman Catholic speech it is called Paradise. In other languages it is called Elysium, Nirvana, Valhalla, the Great Hunting Ground, and so forth. Some might call it Atlantis, or Numenor; perhaps Tol Eressea or Valinor (feel free to quibble). The only name that is sufficient for me, is Faerie; as I said, my imagination was baptized by Tolkien.
From this tap root that I call Faerie, springs many different trunks of legend and myth, alive with the sap of language spoken by the caretakers of the myths and legends in each tongue. We English speakers need Tolkien and Beowulf. Italians need Dante and Virgil. The Germans need Faust and the Nibelungenlied. And so on. Yet since English has become THE international language, Tolkien's works have spread as far as the language has. And Tolkien's work communicates, at its deepest root, Faerie - that Something that once was, that is now lost, but may against all odds and evidence, be renewed one day.