The sinking of Numenor - a lesson to whom?

[Lalwendë]

Originally Posted by Legate

I have to note one thing which just kind of popped up at me here when reading this. From the theological point of view, the Fate of Men is actually of all the mythology something where Tolkien went probably the closest to the Christian message, particularly as given by the Resurrection. All the images of Valinor, Elves etc. are just "simple" things, and a view from indeed a mythology, which also Tolkien made fit into the mythologic world itself.

If you think about it, Men would be better off accepting their fate in a very real psychological sense. Denying death is not a healthy thing to do, as it comes to us all one day, and this idea has been explored over and over again by Artists. Even were Tolkien an out-an-out atheist it would make perfect logical sense for Men in his creation to be better off if they accept the inevitability of death - indeed that's one of the messages of Pullman's HDM and he has beliefs quite opposite to Tolkien's.

It is interesting how Tolkien though, of all people, counterbalances this with an examination of a race both immortal and bound to the fabric of the earth. I can't explain that.

Originally Posted by Morthoron

Interesting that the word 'fey' has its root in the term faery itself (French, I believe, as in Morgan la Fey), thereby insinuating an instability in the Elvish (or, more properly, Sidhe) set in a classical sense. Reading something like W.B. Yeats' or Crofton Croker's folklore of Ireland, it's certainly reasonable to believe that faery-folk are unreasonable and more than a bit daft. They are certainly not a stable race in any case (which is reiterated for modern readers in Mr. Norrell and Jonathan Strange).

I wonder if Tolkien perhaps gleaned a bit of the Elvish feyness from 19th century English and Irish writers. I know he didn't care much for Gaelic mythology (Usnach, Cu Chullain, Redbranch, etc.), but Faery feyness abounds in more current Irish folklore (say, within the last 2 or 3 centuries), and in older tales Tolkien was more partial to, as in the Welsh Mabinogion and the Arthurian cycle as well (The Green Knight was not the most stable character, was he?). I haven't read any George MacDonald in the last 2 decades, but I seem to remember a great bit of feyness permeating his novels.

Good observation! And if you think about Tolkien's Elves, laying aside the sensible ones like Elrond (who also is a particular friend to Men), you are correct, they are not exactly perfect and are tinged with more than a little lunacy. Witness the issues with Eol, his wife, his son, his brother-in-law; Galadriel's power lust; Feanor's temper; the defensiveness of Thingol and of Thranduil.

When Men like Eomer and Boromir express a certain amount of fear about Lothlorien they are only echoing the feelings of people in the real world when told a place was inhabited by fairies - they were and are (in Tolkien's work) pretty perilous and unpredictable beings.


Incidentally, what did you make of Jonathan Strange in the end?

[Morthoron]

Originally Posted by Lalwendë

Incidentally, what did you make of Jonathan Strange in the end?

Sadly, I found it unsatisfying. What started out as a very intriguing and ingeniously crafted novel slowly deflated over 800+ pages, and the climax and denouement did not make up for the loss of momentum over several hundred (or so it seemed) chapters. I found only a few characters I actually liked (Childermass for one), and the use of magic seemed far too over-the-top for a conservative like me, who believes in inherent magical ability used sparingly (or in the case of Uskglass, raised in Faery and imbued with magic via long immersion). For example, a mere mortal using a spell and moving an entire city (not an illusion, mind you, but actually lifting an entire city to a far-off location) disrupted the suspension of belief for me. And the liberal use of citations for mythical books was clever at first became more and more monotonous as the book progressed (rather like the endless citations and asides in Moby Dick, it eventually drives one to distraction).

If I were the editor, I would have perhaps cut out 100 or so pages (or as the Emperor said to Mozart, 'There are too many notes"). I was also bewildered that Strange brought himself to the brink of madness to save his wife, but then blithely traipsed off with that crashing boor Norrell rather than spend time with Arabella (the only settling influence he had). It was a very odd novel: so much to commend, but just as much to condemn.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Originally Posted by Lalwendë

If you think about it, Men would be better off accepting their fate in a very real psychological sense. Denying death is not a healthy thing to do, as it comes to us all one day, and this idea has been explored over and over again by Artists. Even were Tolkien an out-an-out atheist it would make perfect logical sense for Men in his creation to be better off if they accept the inevitability of death - indeed that's one of the messages of Pullman's HDM and he has beliefs quite opposite to Tolkien's.

It is interesting how Tolkien though, of all people, counterbalances this with an examination of a race both immortal and bound to the fabric of the earth. I can't explain that.

Well but that's exactly it, I think - the more, in comparison to the Elves, the fate of Men stands out. The Elves are something totally alien from Men after all: or rather, something with a totally different fate. Where they share both the life in Arda (although each of them experiencing it with a bit different point of view nevertheless), the death of Men - and of Elves too, in the technical sense - is something completely different, there is a division that cannot be passed (as the tales of Beren and Lúthien etc. show in the brightest clarity). Middle-Earth is not Men's world, strangely enough. The Elves also, kind of, reflect something of the so often repeated (in RL tales, mythology etc.) idea of immortality. They are immortal, which also means bound to that world forever. Whereas Men are spared the infinity in this very same existence, their existence is seemingly mysteriously changed in some way (sure they are not anymore what they have been like while still alive), yet at the same time they seemingly remain themselves: their identity is preserved. Because we are told that Men will be present together with Ainur and the rest of the Children to sing in the Great Music at the end of days (see Ainulindalë). And that is what I had in mind when saying that it is probably where Tolkien succeeded the best (if he tried, or from where he tried) to reflect the Christian image of the world, resp. in this case human destiny in particular. I wanted to remark this purely from professional interest as it kind of popped at me. In case there were per chance any people interested in the echoes/depiction/not-depiction of whatever theological concepts in Tolkien's world reading it in the future.

[Ibrîniðilpathânezel]

Oddly enough in good ol' letter 156, Tolkien does make a comment about the Numenoreans and a known religion:

The Numenoreans thus began a great new good, and as monotheists; but like the Jews (only more so) with only one physical centre of 'worship': the summit of the mountain Meneltarma 'Pillar of Heaven'. . .but it had no building and no temple, as all such things had evil associations.

I presume his reference to the Jews is equating the Meneltarma with the Temple of Solomon in Jerusalem, and in their monotheism, not in their specific beliefs or practices.

This particular letter has quite a lot to say about the matter of Numenor, most of which we know through the published Akallabeth. Some things, however, are stated a bit more directly:

He [Sauron] finally induced Arpharazon, frightened by the approach of old age, to make the greatest of all armadas, and go up with war against the Blessed Realm itself, and wrest it and its 'immortality' into his own hands. This was a delusion of course, a Satanic lie. For as emissaries of the Valar clearly inform him, the Blessed Realm does not confer immortality. The land is blessed because the Blessed dwell there, not vice versa, and the Valar are immortal by right and nature, while Men are mortal by right and nature. But cozened by Sauron he dismissed all this as a diplomatic argument to ward off the power of the King of Kings. It might or might not be 'heretical,' if these myths were regarded as statements about the actual nature of Man in the real world; I do not know. But the view of the myth is that Death -- the mere shortness of human life-span -- is not a punishment for the Fall, but a biologically (and therefore also spiritually, since the body and spirit are integrated) inherent part of Man's nature. The attempt to escape it is wicked because 'unnatural', and silly because Death in that sense is the Gift of God (envied by the Elves), release from the weariness of Time. Death, in the penal sense, is viewed as a change in attitude to it: fear, reluctance. A good Numenorean died of free will when he felt it to be time to do so.

The Valar had no real answer to this monstrous rebellion -- for the Children of God were not under their ultimate jurisdiction: they were not allowed to destroy them, or coerce them with any 'divine' display of the powers they held over the physical world. They appealed to God, and a catastrophic 'change of plan' occurred.

Since Men and the Elves are referred to as the "Children of God," I sometimes (rather puckishly) think of the results of Eru's intervention as being an act rather like the old saying, "I brought you into this world, I can take you out of it." Perhaps that's the way Tolkien viewed God, but I tend to think not; having myself been raised in pre-Vatican II Roman Catholicism, it never fails to amaze me that he would write, "Nothing was evil in its beginnings; not even Sauron was so." It certainly wasn't what I was taught as a child, and yet, he held this view even before I was born. Even inside the myth, perhaps the sinking of Numenor is not so much meant to be taken as a punishment as it is intended to be a lesson about human nature, the great heights to which it can rise when it keeps its purpose and deeds noble and pure, and how far it can fall when those purposes and deeds become selfish and corrupt. Sadly, it seems that many of the descendants of those who survived did not learn the lesson, and like their forebears, continued to yearn for what they could not have.

[Formendacil]

Originally Posted by Ibrîniðilpathânezel

Since Men and the Elves are referred to as the "Children of God," I sometimes (rather puckishly) think of the results of Eru's intervention as being an act rather like the old saying, "I brought you into this world, I can take you out of it." Perhaps that's the way Tolkien viewed God, but I tend to think not; having myself been raised in pre-Vatican II Roman Catholicism, it never fails to amaze me that he would write, "Nothing was evil in its beginnings; not even Sauron was so." It certainly wasn't what I was taught as a child, and yet, he held this view even before I was born.

I will perhaps be guilty of sending us off on a tangent here, but the quoted comments struck my interest, and I feel somewhat obliged to point out certain facts regarding said Catholic doctrine.

Firstly, the idea that nothing was evil in the beginning, that "not even Sauron was so," is a very Catholic sounding phrase to my mind. Lucifer, after all, doesn't mean "blasted evil person" but "light-bearer," and the idea of Lucifer's fall to becoming Satan was perhaps better known pre-Council than post, since more emphasis was given to the Devil than since, but it is most definitely good, old-fashioned Catholic thought to say that Lucifer was a good angel of God once.

Indeed, this harkens back very much to Augustinian thought. Augustine, in trying to account for the existence of evil in the world, comes up continually against the apparent contradiction that God, as a perfectly good being, wouldn't create evil... but He created the Devil, right? One of Augustine's answers to this question (he grappled with it long and had a few) was that God created everything Good, and things are evil only insofar as they have lost aspects of the Goodness proper to them.

In a sense, one can see this reflected in Melkor, who is, I am very willing to claim, no more evil in the beginning than Tolkien claimed of Sauron. Specifically, it seems demonstrable that as Melkor becomes more evil he loses parts of his original goodness and powers, eventually becoming completely unable to subcreate anything, but only to destroy, because creative power is a Good, and he has lost that as he has stripped himself more and more of his original goodness.

Anyway, without getting into more philosophy than my tired, addled brain can handle at this late hour, I'll basically just say that it seems very Catholic to me indeed that Tolkien should say such things of Sauron. Of course, this is not to say that such an understanding need be the household expression of faith (and no offence intended on that score to Ibri one way or another), but rather that Tolkien, given that he was raised, post-orphaning, by a Catholic priest, and was an academic with probably more than a passing knowledge of the classics (including Augustine and other church writers), would most definitely have had an understanding of evil that could accommodate a statement such as "even Sauron was not so in the beginning"--whether or not that was the understanding of the masses prior to the council, it is certainly in accord with centuries of philosophical Catholic thought.

Hmm... just ignore me if I've steamrolled too far into digression.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Well, I would not worry that much as in fact, this is far closer to the original topic than lots of other things which have been discussed around were. Let me say only this, what you just presented, Form, is exactly what I always thought was Tolkien's idea about the evil in Middle-Earth. I have not read any letters or such, but only from Ainulindalë and these remarks "nothing was evil at the beginning, not even Sauron", I thought that it's pretty clear: the original state of Arda (resp. of the whole universe, including Ainur and everything) was "good" at the beginning. And only due to certain "falls" - of Melkor etc. - the state did not remain just good. And just to add, I am not possibly as much of an expert on Catholicism as Form is, but certainly the idea I had about Catholicism was that - of course, as in all forms of Christianity and Judaism, too (maybe even stronger there, without the ideas of "original sin") - it clearly holds that everything was good in the beginning, i.e. that the world and creation is fundamentally good. One hears "and it was good" after every day in the first chapter of Genesis, so I strongly doubt such think could be overlooked. Any sins, even if they were hereditary, are just a secondary thing.

Anyway, to get somewhat back to the very original topic, I actually find the second thing Ibri quoted as most interesting for this discussion:

They appealed to God, and a catastrophic 'change of plan' occurred.

What does it mean - "change of plan"? Does it simply refer in other words to the reshaping of the world (i.e. rather "change of architectonic plans"), or does it get to the core of the problem we are questioning here? Doesn't it seem to you that this quote sounds almost like "there happened an accident"? Perhaps it's the word "occured" that makes me think so: had there been "Eru drowned them all", I would think otherwise. This sounds rather as if it were indeed an "accident", as some were implying here. Most curious, are we getting here the chance to see what Tolkien himself thought about it, or am I reading too much to this?

[Morthoron]

Originally Posted by Legate of Amon Lanc

Anyway, to get somewhat back to the very original topic, I actually find the second thing Ibri quoted as most interesting for this discussion:

What does it mean - "change of plan"? Does it simply refer in other words to the reshaping of the world (i.e. rather "change of architectonic plans"), or does it get to the core of the problem we are questioning here? Doesn't it seem to you that this quote sounds almost like "there happened an accident"? Perhaps it's the word "occured" that makes me think so: had there been "Eru drowned them all", I would think otherwise. This sounds rather as if it were indeed an "accident", as some were implying here. Most curious, are we getting here the chance to see what Tolkien himself thought about it, or am I reading too much to this?

First, Tolkien's conception of Sauron as inherently good (or not evil) in the beginning does not conflict with pre-Vatican II theology. To infer that Catholicism ever harbored a duality of good and evil (as would be the implication had Sauron or Morgoth been evil in the beginning) would be in error, as that was heretical back to the time of the Arian heresy as well as the Albigenses in the Middle-ages.

Second, I do not believe it was accidental, nor do I think the quote "a catastrophic 'change of plan' occurred" infers any accident whatsoever. What it refers to is a surrender of choice by the Valar to the all-consuming power of Eru. In that remission of leadership, the Valar gave up any and all detente, cajoling or pleas to Numenor for a final verdict by Eru, who chose once and for all to divide Valinor from Arda and inflict the severest of all penalties upon Numenor. But even in his wrath, Eru appears as Yahweh to Noah, saving the faithful under Elendil (which I believe differentiates Atalante from Atlantis as there were no survivors in the Greek tradition).

[Ibrîniðilpathânezel]

Originally Posted by Morthoron

First, Tolkien's conception of Sauron as inherently good (or not evil) in the beginning does not conflict with pre-Vatican II theology. To infer that Catholicism ever harbored a duality of good and evil (as would be the implication had Sauron or Morgoth been evil in the beginning) would be in error, as that was heretical back to the time of the Arian heresy as well as the Albigenses in the Middle-ages.

Actually, what I was really referring to was my specific experience with a Catholic upbringing, which can vary widely, depending on the priests and nuns doing the teaching. The words of doctrine can be the same, but the impact will differ depending on how they are presented and the commentary and interpretation that follows. The clergy who taught at my church and school were very much of the mind that we are all sinners, sinners, sinners, evil wicked things in our very creation, and we must constantly strive for what they presented as an impossible goal of redemption. I suspect that Tolkien's teachers had a somewhat less "doom and gloom" presentation of Original Sin and its relevance to his personal life and ability to achieve salvation. But because of my own rearing, it astonished me to read those words in his writing. My parish priests and nuns certainly didn't believe that nothing was evil in its beginning, and it truly amazed me to hear another Catholic say otherwise. Still does, and I've long since left the Church.

Didn't mean to start a theological bruhaha; I should've been a bit clearer that I was speaking from a very personal viewpoint.

Second, I do not believe it was accidental, nor do I think the quote "a catastrophic 'change of plan' occurred" infers any accident whatsoever. What it refers to is a surrender of choice by the Valar to the all-consuming power of Eru. In that remission of leadership, the Valar gave up any and all detente, cajoling or pleas to Numenor for a final verdict by Eru, who chose once and for all to divide Valinor from Arda and inflict the severest of all penalties upon Numenor. But even in his wrath, Eru appears as Yahweh to Noah, saving the faithful under Elendil (which I believe differentiates Atalante from Atlantis as there were no survivors in the Greek tradition).

In fact, in the same letter, Tolkien does refer to the "Noachic" situation of Elendil and the Faithful. And when he says "change of plan," I wonder if he might not mean "the plan as the Valar understood it," or perhaps even "the Valar's plan," since they were the ones who came up with the idea of fashioning Numenor as a reward. The other time Tolkien refer to a "change of plan" is, I believe, elsewhere in the same letter, when he talks about the resurrection of Gandalf, and Eru's widening of a plan which began as the Valar's. In both cases, Eru intervened to change the situation after it had failed, in one way or another. The magnitude of the necessary intervention is, perhaps, in correlation with the magnitude of the error of those involved -- or perhaps of the plan itself.

[Bêthberry]

Originally Posted by Morthoron

But even in his wrath, Eru appears as Yahweh to Noah, saving the faithful under Elendil (which I believe differentiates Atalante from Atlantis as there were no survivors in the Greek tradition).

Any mention of Noah reminds me of Eddie Izzard's take: Eddie Izzard's Noah's Ark

although I suppose that with Ulmo watching over the waters, there wouldn't be any evil fish to survive.

[Lalwendë]

Originally Posted by Ibrîniðilpathânezel

I presume his reference to the Jews is equating the Meneltarma with the Temple of Solomon in Jerusalem, and in their monotheism, not in their specific beliefs or practices.

Actually, do you know what the Meneltarma always makes me think of? The Kaaba at Mecca! And oddly, that itself is a pillar, maybe not in shape, but it is one of the Five Pillars of Islam.

Interesting...

The Valar had no real answer to this monstrous rebellion -- for the Children of God were not under their ultimate jurisdiction: they were not allowed to destroy them, or coerce them with any 'divine' display of the powers they held over the physical world. They appealed to God, and a catastrophic 'change of plan' occurred.

My take on this is that Eru had plans, some known to the Ainur and some unknown:

Originally Posted by Sil

And many other things Iluvatar spoke to the Ainur at that time, and because of their memory of his words, and the knowledge that each has of the music that he himself made, the Ainur know much of what was, and is, and is to come, and few things are unseen by them. Yet some things there are that they cannot see, neither alone nor taking counsel together; for to none but himself has Iluvatar revealed all that he has in store, and in every age there come forth things that are new and have no foretelling, for they do not proceed from the past

And so my take is Eru changed the plan completely when he changed the world. The interesting bit is what 'the plan' was in the first place and whether it was one the Valar were party to. I strongly suspect not in this case!

If I were the editor, I would have perhaps cut out 100 or so pages (or as the Emperor said to Mozart, 'There are too many notes"). I was also bewildered that Strange brought himself to the brink of madness to save his wife, but then blithely traipsed off with that crashing boor Norrell rather than spend time with Arabella (the only settling influence he had). It was a very odd novel: so much to commend, but just as much to condemn.

I agree - a hundred or so pages less and it would have been better, though I think maybe she was trying to ape the style of the picaresque, and novels of that period did tend to wander a little (like Tristram Shandy - longest shaggy dog story ever!). I would say it's not a style necessarily to modern tastes, too, but it still sold reasonably well - maybe we like to think we are getting good value from a book?

In contrast to you, I found the latter part of the book whizzed by!

Sorry, everyone BTW for turning this into Book review corner, I was curious what Morthoron thought of it, seeing as everyone else gushes about it