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#16 | ||||
Spectre of Decay
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I wrote most of what follows last night, and although I've done my best to incorporate the later posts I can't be sure that I haven't missed anyone. My apologies to anybody whose arguments I've overlooked.
I don't believe that it's possible to disassociate the mythology from psychological realities. Throughout even The Silmarillion characters' individual personalities, motivations and feelings at pivotal points are made clear to us, and this makes the application of psychological realism quite possible and acceptable. In the example of Arwen above, my opinion that she died from despair was derived from this passage: Quote:
I cannot see how this relinquishing of life (at least as Tolkien portrays it) can be anything but passive. Although Aragorn himself gives up what little time remains to him, this is presented as a positive decision, taken for the sake of the dignity of the Kings, and more importantly a contrast with the later kings of Númenor. Were Arwen's death to follow the same pattern as his I would regard it as an active following of her love into death, but it does not. She wanders as someone who has lost the lodestone of her existence, and I do not find this very difficult to believe. It would hardly be surprising for someone who has lived for centuries among deathless and unchanging relatives to be unaware of the full burden that the Gift places on the race of Men, as indeed the text makes explicit with Arwen's words to Aragorn: Quote:
Perhaps my over-liberal use of capitals has confused the queen mother issue. As Lost One quite rightly points out, we cannot compare Gondor with a modern constitutional monarchy, in which dowagers are effectively no use to anyone. Rather it is a medieval state in which the royal family and their peers run every aspect of the administration. Kingship in that context is a trade that must be learned (usually from one's father, I must admit), and a wise king avails himself of all the good advice he can get even once he knows how to arrange matters. Surely on some issues the advice of one close to his predecessor would have been useful. Perhaps more pertinent is the point that, though they might not literally need their parents (being well into adulthood themselves), Arwen's family will hardly be overjoyed to lose both of them in such quick succession, particularly since both of them die by their own free will, which implies a rejection of whose whom they leave among the living. Effectively, Arwen places the burden of grief that she has found so galling on the shoulders of her son and daughters (Eldarion would have an especially difficult time of it, since he also has the government of a kingdom to take over). She escapes into death from the pains of the world, leaving others with twice the misery, and it surprises me that they let her go. Like the Saucepan Man I have exactly the same reservations about Sam's rather abrupt departure, immediately on the heels of his wife's death. Whilst I can understand his desire to see Frodo again it does seem very hard on his family and unusual in a patriarch. Of course the narrative effect of Arwen's death is no less powerful for its apparent thoughtlessness. Effectively she gives up her life twice: first her life as one of the Firstborn and then the years that remained to her after Aragorn's death. She is a woman who surrenders everything for love, for whom, indeed, love of her chosen man eclipses family, race and immortality. The choice between her Elven kin and her husband is one that is forced upon her, but her decision to wander off and die, abandoning her human loved ones, is her own. Although I can understand this and appreciate the bitter-sweet beauty of it as narrative, it does not sit well as a character decision, much as Míriel's refusal to be rebodied (the detrimental effects of which on her husband and son Tolkien explores in The Shibboleth of Fëanor and more briefly in the Silmarillion proper) leaves me with a feeling of frailty and selfishness that I find hard to reconcile with the courage and endurance that Tolkien normally portrays. Rimbaud has mentioned that Arwen's death is symptomatic of a general Elven fading from Middle-earth (more a compulsion to leave), but there is to my mind a fundamental flaw in this argument, since Arwen is by the time of her death not one of the Eldar at all. She has forsaken the Twilight and chosen the fate of Men, who are not compelled to leave. We cannot have our cake and eat it too: either Arwen is an Elf, subject to a compulsion to leave the mortal lands or she is human (albeit with long-extended years) and therefore subject only to the fate of that people. She says herself "I must indeed abide the Doom of Men, whether I will or nil", and it seems to me in any case that if the half-Elven must be subject to the compulsions of both kindreds then the choice that is granted them becomes meaningless. Even the cases of Legolas and Celeborn are by no means clear-cut. I shall leave the latter for the time being, since this post is already extending far beyond its intended length, but Legolas' desire to leave for the West does not come as part of some general Elven fading. Rather as he says himself, the sea exerts a strong pull upon the Elves Quote:
Quote:
I too wish to see a more dynamic Arwen, someone who is more than just a prize to be won or a devoted helpmeet. At the very least I'd like to see someone whose strength and patience applies in all cases and not just when it comes to waiting for Aragorn. Sadly, it would appear that Appendix A is not going to grant me that, much as I may love the story it has to tell. [ September 06, 2003: Message edited by: The Squatter of Amon Rûdh ]
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Man kenuva métim' andúne? |
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