The Return of the Shadow Page 2
No account is given in this book of the history of the writing of The Hobbit up to its original publication in 1937, although, from the nature of its relationship to The Lord of the Rings, the published work is constantly referred to. That relationship is curious and complex. My father several times expressed his view of it, but most fully and (as I think) most accurately in the course of a long letter to Christopher Bretherton written in July 1964 (Letters no. 257).
I returned to Oxford in Jan. 1926, and by the time The Hobbit appeared (1937) this ‘matter of the Elder Days’ was in coherent form. The Hobbit was not intended to have anything to do with it. I had the habit while my children were still young of inventing and telling orally, sometimes of writing down, ‘children’s stories’ for their private amusement … The Hobbit was intended to be one of them. It had no necessary connexion with the ‘mythology’, but naturally became attracted towards this dominant construction in my mind, causing the tale to become larger and more heroic as it proceeded. Even so it could really stand quite apart, except for the references (unnecessary, though they give an impression of historical depth) to the Fall of Gondolin, the branches of the Elfkin, and the quarrel of King Thingol, Lúthien’s father, with the Dwarves….
The magic ring was the one obvious thing in The Hobbit that could be connected with my mythology. To be the burden of a large story it had to be of supreme importance. I then linked it with the (originally) quite casual reference to the Necromancer, whose function was hardly more than to provide a reason for Gandalf going away and leaving Bilbo and the Dwarves to fend for themselves, which was necessary for the tale. From The Hobbit are also derived the matter of the Dwarves, Durin their prime ancestor, and Moria; and Elrond. The passage in Ch. iii relating him to the Half-elven of the mythology was a fortunate accident, due to the difficulty of constantly inventing good names for new characters. I gave him the name Elrond casually, but as this came from the mythology (Elros and Elrond the two sons of Eärendel) I made him half-elven. Only in The Lord was he identified with the son of Eärendel, and so the great-grandson of Lúthien and Beren, a great power and a Ringholder.
How my father saw The Hobbit – specifically in relation to ‘The Silmarillion’ – at the time of its publication is shown clearly in the letter that he wrote to G. E. Selby on 14 December 1937:
I don’t much approve of The Hobbit myself, preferring my own mythology (which is just touched on) with its consistent nomenclature – Elrond, Gondolin, and Esgaroth have escaped out of it – and organized history, to this rabble of Eddaic-named dwarves out of Völuspá, newfangled hobbits and gollums (invented in an idle hour) and Anglo-Saxon runes.
The importance of The Hobbit in the history of the evolution of Middle-earth lies then, at this time, in the fact that it was published, and that a sequel to it was demanded. As a result, from the nature of The Lord of the Rings as it evolved, The Hobbit was drawn into Middle-earth – and transformed it; but as it stood in 1937 it was not a part of it. Its significance for Middle-earth lies in what it would do, not in what it was.
Later, The Lord of the Rings in turn reacted upon The Hobbit itself, in published and in (far more extensive) unpublished revisions of the text; but all that lies of course far in the future at the point which this History has reached.
In the manuscripts of The Lord of the Rings there is extreme inconsistency in such matters as the use of capital letters and hyphens, and the separation of elements in compound names. In my representation of the texts I have not imposed any standardization in this respect, though using consistent forms in my own discussions.
THE FIRST PHASE
I
A LONG-EXPECTED PARTY
(i)
The First Version
The original written starting-point of The Lord of the Rings – its ‘first germ’, as my father scribbled on the text long after – has been preserved: a manuscript of five pages entitled A long-expected party. I think that it must have been to this (rather than to a second, unfinished, draft that soon followed it) that my father referred when on 19 December 1937 he wrote to Charles Furth at Allen and Unwin: ‘I have written the first chapter of a new story about Hobbits – “A long expected party”.’ Only three days before he had written to Stanley Unwin:
I think it is plain that … a sequel or successor to The Hobbit is called for. I promise to give this thought and attention. But I am sure you will sympathize when I say that the construction of elaborate and consistent mythology (and two languages) rather occupies the mind, and the Silmarils are in my heart. So that goodness knows what will happen. Mr Baggins began as a comic tale among conventional and inconsistent Grimm’s fairy-tale dwarves, and got drawn into the edge of it – so that even Sauron the terrible peeped over the edge. And what more can hobbits do? They can be comic, but their comedy is suburban unless it is set against things more elemental.
From this it seems plain that on the 16th of December he had not only not begun writing, but in all probability had not even given thought to the substance of ‘a new story about Hobbits’. Not long before he had parted with the manuscript of the third version of The Silmarillion to Allen and Unwin; it was unfinished, and he was still deeply immersed in it. In a postscript to this letter to Stanley Unwin he acknowledged, in fact, the return of The Silmarillion (and other things) later on that day. Nonetheless, he must have begun on the new story there and then.
When he first put pen to paper he wrote in large letters ‘When M’, but he stopped before completing the final stroke of the M and wrote instead ‘When Bilbo …’ The text begins in a handsome script, but the writing becomes progessively faster and deteriorates at the end into a rapid scrawl not at all points legible. There are a good many alterations to the manuscript. The text that follows represents the original form as I judge it to have been, granting that what is ‘original’ and what is not cannot be perfectly distinguished. Some changes can be seen to have been made at the moment of writing, and these are taken up into the text; but others are characteristic anticipations of the following version, and these are ignored. In any case it is highly probable that my father wrote the versions of this opening chapter in quick succession. Notes to this version follow immediately on the end of the text (p. 17).
The original opening page of The Lord of the Rings
A long-expected party1
When Bilbo, son of Bungo of the family of Baggins, [had celebrated >] prepared to celebrate his seventieth birthday there was for a day or two some talk in the neighbourhood. He had once had a little fleeting fame among the people of Hobbiton and Bywater – he had disappeared after breakfast one April 30th and not reappeared until lunchtime on June 22nd in the following year. A very odd proceeding for which he had never given any good reason, and of which he wrote a nonsensical account. After that he returned to normal ways; and the shaken confidence of the district was gradually restored, especially as Bilbo seemed by some unexplained method to have become more than comfortably off, if not positively wealthy. Indeed it was the magnificence of the party rather than the fleeting fame that at first caused the talk – after all that other odd business had happened some twenty years before and was becoming decently forgotten. The magnificence of the preparations for the party, I should say. The field to the south of his front door was being covered with pavilions. Invitations were being sent out to all the Bagginses and all the Tooks (his relatives on his mother’s side), and to the Grubbs (only remotely connected); and to the Burroweses, the Boffinses, the Chubbses and the Proudfeet: none of whom were connected at all within the memory of the local historians – some of them lived on the other side of the shire; but they were all, of course, hobbits. Even the Sackville-Bagginses, his cousins on his father’s side, were not forgotten. There had been a feud between them and Mr Bilbo Baggins, as some of you may remember. But so splendid was the invitation-card, all written in gold, that they were induced to accept; besides, their cousin had been specializing in good food for a long time, and his tables had a high re
putation even in that time and country when food was still what it ought to be and abundant enough for all folk to practise on.
Everyone expected a pleasant feast; though they rather dreaded the after-dinner speech of their host. He was liable to drag in bits of what he called poetry, and even to allude, after a glass or two, to the absurd adventures he said he had had long ago during his ridiculous vanishment. They had a very pleasant feast: indeed an engrossing entertainment. The purchase of provisions fell almost to zero throughout the whole shire during the ensuing week; but as Mr Baggins’ catering had emptied all the stores, cellars and warehouses for miles around, that did not matter. Then came the speech. Most of the assembled hobbits were now in a tolerant mood, and their former fears were forgotten. They were prepared to listen to anything, and to cheer at every full stop. But they were not prepared to be startled. But they were – completely and unprecedentedly startled; some even had indigestion.
‘My dear people,’ began Mr Baggins. ‘Hear, hear!’ they replied in chorus. ‘My dear Bagginses,’ he went on, standing now on his chair, so that the light of the lanterns that illuminated the enormous pavilion flashed upon the gold buttons of his embroidered waistcoat for all to see. ‘And my dear Tooks, and Grubbs, and Chubbs, and Burroweses, and Boffinses, and Proudfoots.’2 ‘Proudfeet’ shouted an elderly hobbit from the back. His name of course was Proudfoot, and merited; his feet were large, exceptionally furry, and both were on the table. ‘Also my dear Sackville-Bagginses that I welcome back at last to Bag-end,’ Bilbo continued. ‘Today is my seventieth birthday.’ ‘Hurray hurray and many happy returns!’ they shouted. That was the sort of stuff they liked: short, obvious, uncontroversial.
‘I hope you are all enjoying yourselves as much as I am.’ Deafening cheers, cries of yes (and no), and noises of trumpets and whistles. There were a great many junior hobbits present, as hobbits were indulgent to their children, especially if there was a chance of an extra meal. Hundreds of musical crackers had been pulled. Most of them were labelled ‘Made in Dale’. What that meant only Bilbo and a few of his Took-nephews knew; but they were very marvellous crackers. ‘I have called you all together,’ Bilbo went on when the last cheer died away, and something in his voice made a few of the Tooks prick up their ears. ‘First of all to tell you that I am immensely fond of you, and that seventy years is too short a time to live among such excellent and charming hobbits’ – ‘hear hear!’ ‘I don’t know half of you half as well as I should like, and less than half of you half as well as you deserve.’ No cheers, a few claps – most of them were trying to work it out. ‘Secondly to celebrate my birthday and the twentieth year of my return’ – an uncomfortable rustle. ‘Lastly to make an Announcement.’ He said this very loud and everybody sat up who could. ‘Goodbye! I am going away after dinner. Also I am going to get married.’
He sat down. The silence was flabbergastation. It was broken only by Mr Proudfoot, who kicked over the table; Mrs Proudfoot choked in the middle of a drink.
That’s that. It merely serves to explain that Bilbo Baggins got married and had many children, because I am going to tell you a story about one of his descendants, and if you had only read his memoirs up to the date of Balin’s visit – ten years at least before this birthday party – you might have been puzzled.3
As a matter of fact Bilbo Baggins disappeared silently and unnoticed – the ring was in his hand even while he made his speech – in the middle of the confused outburst of talk that followed the flabbergasted silence. He was never seen in Hobbiton again. When the carriages came for the guests there was no one to say good-bye to. The carriages rolled away, one after another, filled with full but oddly unsatisfied hobbits. Gardeners came (by appointment) and cleared away in wheelbarrows those that had inadvertently remained. Night settled down and passed. The sun rose. People came to clear away the pavilions and the tables and the chairs and the lanterns and the flowering trees in boxes, and the spoons and knives and plates and forks, and crumbs, and the uneaten food – a very small parcel. Lots of other people came too. Bagginses and Sackville-Bagginses and Tooks, and people with even less business. By the middle of the morning (when even the best-fed were out and about again) there was quite a crowd at Bag-end, uninvited but not unexpected. ENTER was painted on a large white board outside the great front-door. The door was open. On everything inside there was a label tied. ‘For Mungo Took, with love from Bilbo’; ‘For Semolina Baggins, with love from her nephew’, on a waste-paper basket – she had written him a deal of letters (mostly of good advice). ‘For Caramella Took, with kind remembrances from her uncle’, on a clock in the hall. Though unpunctual she had been a niece he rather liked, until coming late one day to tea she had declared his clock was fast. Bilbo’s clocks were never either slow or fast, and he did not forget it. ‘For Obo Took-Took, from his great-nephew’, on a feather bed; Obo was seldom awake before 12 noon or after tea, and snored. ‘For Gorboduc Grubb with best wishes from B. Baggins’ – on a gold fountain-pen; he never answered letters. ‘For Angelica’s use’ on a mirror – she was a young Baggins and thought herself very comely.4 ‘For Inigo Grubb-Took’, on a complete dinner-service – he was the greediest hobbit known to history. ‘For Amalda Sackville-Baggins as a present’, on a case of silver spoons. She was the wife of Bilbo’s cousin, the one he had discovered years ago on his return measuring his dining-room (you may remember his suspicions about disappearing spoons: anyway neither he nor Amalda had forgotten).5
Of course there were a thousand and one things in Bilbo’s house, and all had labels – most of them with some point (which sank in after a time). The whole house-furniture was disposed of, but not a penny piece of money, nor a brass ring of jewelry, was to be found. Amalda was the only Sackville-Baggins remembered with a label – but then there was a notice in the hall saying that Mr Bilbo Baggins made over the desirable property or dwelling-hole known as Bag-end Underhill together with all lands thereto belonging or annexed to Sago Sackville-Baggins and his wife Amalda for them to have hold possess occupy or otherwise dispose of at their pleasure and discretion as from September 22nd next. It was then September 21st (Bilbo’s birthday being on the 20th of that pleasant month). So the Sackville-Bagginses did live in Bag-end after all – though they had had to wait some twenty years. And they had a great deal of difficulty too getting all the labelled stuff out – labels got torn and mixed, and people tried to do swaps in the hall, and some tried to make off with stuff that was [not] being carefully watched; and various prying folk began knocking holes in walls and burrowing in cellars before they could be ejected. They were still worrying about the money and the jewelry. How Bilbo would have laughed. Indeed he was – he had foreseen how it would all fall out, and was enjoying the joke quite privately.
There, I suppose it has become all too plain. The fact is, in spite of his after-dinner speech, he had grown suddenly very tired of them all. The Tookishness (not of course that all Tooks ever had much of this wayward quality) had quite suddenly and uncomfortably come to life again. Also another secret – after he had blowed his last fifty ducats on the party he had not got any money or jewelry left, except the ring, and the gold buttons on his waistcoat. He had spent it all in twenty years (even the proceeds of his beautiful …. which he had sold a few years back).6
Then how could he get married? He was not going to just then – he merely said ‘I am going to get married’. I cannot quite say why. It came suddenly into his head. Also he thought it was an event that might occur in the future – if he travelled again amongst other folk, or found a more rare and more beautiful race of hobbits somewhere. Also it was a kind of explanation. Hobbits had a curious habit in their weddings. They kept it (always officially and very often actually) a dead secret for years who they were going to marry, even when they knew. Then they suddenly went and got married and went off without an address for a week or two (or even longer). When Bilbo had disappeared this is what at first his neighbours thought. ‘He has gone and got married. Now who can it be?
– no one else has disappeared, as far as we know.’ Even after a year they would have been less surprised if he had come back with a wife. For a long while some folk thought he was keeping one in hiding, and quite a legend about the poor Mrs Bilbo who was too ugly to be seen grew up for a while.
So now Bilbo said before he disappeared: ‘I am going to get married.’ He thought that that – together with all the fuss about the house (or hole) and furniture – would keep them all busy and satisfied for a long while, so that no one would bother to hunt for him for a bit. And he was right – or nearly right. For no one ever bothered to hunt for him at all. They decided he had gone mad, and run off till he met a pool or a river or a steep fall, and there was one Baggins the less. Most of them, that is. He was deeply regretted by a few of his younger friends of course (… Angelica and Sar ......). But he had not said good-bye to all of them – O no. That is easily explained.
NOTES
1The title was written in subsequently, but no doubt before the chapter was finished, since my father referred to it by this title in his letter of 19 December 1937 (p. 11).
2After ‘Burroweses’ followed ‘and Ogdens’, but this was struck out – almost certainly at the time of writing. ‘Proudfoots’ was first written ‘Proudfeet’, as earlier in the chapter, but as the next sentence shows it was changed in the act of writing.
3The reference is to the conclusion of The Hobbit, when Gandalf and Balin called at Bag End ‘some years afterwards’.
4At this point a present to Inigo Baggins of a case of hairbrushes was mentioned, but struck out, evidently at the time of writing, since the present to another Inigo (Grubb-Took) immediately follows.
5Various changes were made to the names and other details in this passage, not all of which were taken up in the third version (the second ends before this point). Mungo Took’s gift (an umbrella) was specified; and Caramella Took was changed from niece to cousin. Gorboduc Grubb became Orlando Grubb. Pencilled proposals for the name of Mrs Sackville-Baggins, replacing Amalda, are Lonicera (Honeysuckle) and Griselda, and her husband Sago (named in the next paragraph of the text) became Cosmo.