[Bêthberry]

I would like for now to move away from the questions of intentionality and return to the intial framing of the topic from littlemanpoet and Son of Númenor's first reply.

Originally Posted by littlemanpoet

The Emblems of Religion don't belong ... or do they?

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Tolkien asserted that the emblems of religion don't belong in fantasy.... or something to that effect (I may not have this worded or remembered quite right).

It certainly works very well in LotR. It was one of his primary criticisms of the works of C.S. Lewis and Charles Williams (fellow "inklings").

Do you agree or disagree that the emblems of religion don't belong in fantasy?

What were Tolkien's reasons for discluding them? Which reasons were valid back when he wrote? Are they still valid now?

Originally Posted by Son of Númenor

Tolkien's assertion about emblems of religion having no place in fantasy could be linked to his dislike for allegory. Fantasy, Tolkien deemed, should have the ultimate purpose of lifting its reader to 'eucatastrophe' -- something along the lines of a state of pure revelation and joy. It would be hard for readers of different faiths to attain such a state with overtly Christian (or Muslim, Jewish, etc.) symbolism penetrating the narrative. I for one agree with Professor Tolkien; if Arwen's banner for Aragorn had a cross emblazoned on it, or if Gondor's seven stars were Stars of David, I think I would be automatically inclined to view Middle-earth as an allegorical rather than a purely fantastic world, and its purpose as evangelical rather than eucatastrophic.

I am going to consider these posts in light of a particular chapter, the 'Journey to the Cross-Roads" chapter of Book IV.

I have in the Chapter by Chapter discussion explained my reading about this chapter but I think that I can also apply my thoughts fruitfully here. I am also going to take lmp's "emblems" and use the concept more widely, to include symbolism of a particular sort. I hope this would not be taking his thoughts too broadly for what he initially intended.

In this chapter, Tolkien gives little dialogue, with the main action being the hurried and harried trek of Sam, Frodo and Gollem from the respite of Henneth Annûn towards the fateful steps of Cirith Ungol. Despite their fears, they are undiscovered and nothing happens, not even the dreadful pull of dark Mordor upon Frodo and the Ring, which begins the next chapter.

What this does is highlight the description Tolkiens offers of the geography and the terrain. It is brought to the fore as the primary topic of the chapter. That description depends very much upon darkness and upon a day that does not dawn but subsists witha sickly brownish smudge and then darkness. Some of the detail may in fact have derived from Tolkien's experience in the trenches of World War I, when the incessant guns and smoke cast a grey pallor over the sky.

Yet the predominant words are darkness and evil. Evil is repeated several times, to the point that even the road is called evil. Clearly the imagery is building towards the culmination of Minas Morgul as hell. However, because the description is so dominant in this chapter, it seems--at least to me--that Tolkien has here moved to close to allegory. All the imagery pertains so closely to that of the traditional iconography of hell that I move out of the fantasy world of Middle earth and into the primary world of Tolkien's faith. I think Son of Númenor's point about evangelical versus eucatastrophic pertains particularly well to this chapter, unlike most of the rest of LotR.

In its most extreme example, this occurs in the statement that a road can be evil. This is at least the fourth use of that word in as many pages.

He [Gollem] would not rest on the ground so near the evil road ...

The basis for this statement, and the rest of the description of Mordor as a land of incarnate evil lies in the theological concept that evil can be incarnate in a person or being. This is a philosophical or theological position and one which not every reader will ascribe to. Those who don't will, I suggest, have difficulty with this chapter because it highlights the description. Rather than being suggestive, as Tolkien I think wisely argues elsewhere, it becomes literal fact.

Coupled with this particular use of darkness, black and evil is the obvious symbolic import of the setting sun shining on the vandalised head of the statue of the king, with the even more symbolic portent of the ring of white flowers.

I think Tolkien was at least partly aware of the difficulty in writing this chapter, given his very interesting decision to give Sam a meaningful dream. I would argue, then, that this chapter demonstrates the validity of Tolkien's argument against allegory and against explicit religious symbols in fantasy. It destroys the artistry of the sub-created world by depending too much upon the iconography of the artist's primary world. Tolkien bore the truth of his idea in his own writing.