Chapter 22
Chapter 22 of A Secret Gate is up today. Given the length of time it took to get it there, it ought to be a creation of flawless beauty and depth. I’m sad to say it isn’t; it has its moments, though!
The chapter is divided into three sections, on each for Merry, Pippin and Jamy as they tend to the business of getting on with things in the last few days before the Wedding and the Great Farewell. Merry entrusts a few secrets of his heart to Estella and bids a personal farewell to Buckland; Pippin settles a rift in the family and considers paths of destiny; and Jamy discovers the Shire beyond the banks of the Brandywine, observes the eccentricities of Tooks, and finally gets to meet the famous Thain Peregrin.
SPOILER ALERT: You will probably want to read the chapter before you read the following long discussion of a particular plot thread. It is a discussion I have been having with myself for some time, and that I share here simply for purposes of clarifying my respectful intentions for anyone who might be alarmed at certain developments.
Purists will notice that a bit of movie-verse has popped up in this chapter, the inclusion of which may annoy readers (like myself) who take canon very seriously and are suspicious and offended when it is breeched, even by such kindred spirits as Peter Jackson. Please bear with me; I want to explore the tangent it creates, and I promise to be very careful.
It is a problematic little bit because it does intersect and slightly skew the setting for an undisputed jewel of canon-but it doesn’t negate or override the Professor’s original intent in introducing the idea, it just provides food for thought for a character uniquely equipped to deal with it.
I refer, of course, to Gandalf’s “death is only another path” speech to Pippin, one of the most popular (if troubling) departures from canon the movie makes-the moment when Gandalf suggests to Pippin the concept of life-after-death, and casually infers that there is a place for mortals as well as immortals beyond the life of the world. This sudden revelation of imperishability (to a hobbit, no less) struck me as interesting, particularly in the context of an elderly Pippin, thinking now and then about his inevitable death.
The idea of “another path” is not beyond canon: Aragorn on his deathbed says to Arwen: “We are not bound forever to the circles of the world, and beyond them is more than memory….” But we’re quite aware of the fact that he never said it to anyone else in over a thousand pages, even as the Fellowship of the Ring faced death many times over. Was it a secret, entrusted only to a few? Or was Aragorn guessing, or hoping, or simply saying something to comfort Arwen as he died and the bitterness of her bride-price loomed before her?
Whatever the case may be, what that movie scene did was to turn an ethereal, deeply beautiful, and essentially conceptual narrative-that of Frodo’s slipping through the grey rain curtain of the world and coming to the shores of the Undying Lands-into a tangible reality for all mortals.
The first time I saw the scene, I was startled by its implications. I wondered-even as I brushed the tears from my eyes-what Pippin-a hobbit of simple and earthly origin, with no gods before him and no practical need of a path that circumvented the grave-could make of such an image as Gandalf presented him for the purpose of comfort in that moment? How would he process such an alien idea as awareness or place beyond death? And what would he do with that astonishing bit of information once he had lived through the perilous moment in question and got on with his life?
Well, I think he kept it a secret. Deliberately. I think he felt unequal to it, and more than a little confounded-but I also think he felt a pressing need to hold on to it (rather like the Palantir) until he figured out what it was and if it meant anything at all to him. This may seem out of character for Pippin; in the natural sequence of events he would certainly have shared it with Merry. But the sequence was unnatural to begin with, and in truth, I think Pippin did not want the wonderfully intelligent and always practical Merry to hold his strange new thought up to the harsh scrutiny of history and scientific principle-or to the inexplicable kindness of wizards-and casually render it meaningless when it certainly had come to mean something to him, however formless and indistinct that something was. Whether Merry would have done that or not remains to be seen; but I think Pippin at that time definitely still saw himself as a youngster, and unequal to Merry in matters of deep thought. And like a youngster he was moved to keep his little fancy secret, lest it be mocked.
I think he found it comforting to replay Gandalf’s “fancy” as time went on and his losses piled up, and I think by the time he was ready to speak of it, he had come to believe that it was an idea very like the Palantir: useful in purpose but dangerous in application for the unschooled. Thus when he decides to say something for the first time, he’s cagey about telling the whole story. He gives Pervinca just enough to ease her fears, and keeps the rest to himself. It’s safe with him, as it always has been, and he’ll take it with him when he goes.
Tolkien left a great deal open to possibility with regard to the Master and the Thain and their final Journey; it remains to be seen if I have the skill to make this slight departure work in truth and elegance in the world the Professor very deliberately made, but I’m going to try, very carefully, to see what comes of it. Certainly in the context of death, which this story must eventually embrace, it has some relevance.
There are no pictures this time, I’m sorry to say. Keeping up with two little boys under the age of five has rather done Rachel in for the time being. (And they are adorable little boys-I met them and they were lovely!) I’m hopeful she may be inspired again one of these days, but I don’t begrudge losing my pictures to two such fairy children!
I mean to start posting pictures of my adventure in England this week. But I’m struggling right now to figure out WHY the pictures all stick together in a collage rather than with spaces between them-what’s that about, anyway? Obviously, there’s a code I don’t know about-anybody have a suggestion?
Meanwhile, while I wait for guidance, here’s a preview. This is one of my most favorite places-it’s across and down the street from Jane Austen’s house in Chawton. It is a footpath (so noted by the sign to the left) and it is just magical. You can just imagine Jane (or indeed, various hobbits) slipping down this little path on their way to a picnic or the market. I don’t know if there was another street or a little riverbank on the other end of it; I never got a chance to slip down it myself! But I loved it on sight, and was sorry to leave it behind.
The chapter is divided into three sections, on each for Merry, Pippin and Jamy as they tend to the business of getting on with things in the last few days before the Wedding and the Great Farewell. Merry entrusts a few secrets of his heart to Estella and bids a personal farewell to Buckland; Pippin settles a rift in the family and considers paths of destiny; and Jamy discovers the Shire beyond the banks of the Brandywine, observes the eccentricities of Tooks, and finally gets to meet the famous Thain Peregrin.
SPOILER ALERT: You will probably want to read the chapter before you read the following long discussion of a particular plot thread. It is a discussion I have been having with myself for some time, and that I share here simply for purposes of clarifying my respectful intentions for anyone who might be alarmed at certain developments.
Purists will notice that a bit of movie-verse has popped up in this chapter, the inclusion of which may annoy readers (like myself) who take canon very seriously and are suspicious and offended when it is breeched, even by such kindred spirits as Peter Jackson. Please bear with me; I want to explore the tangent it creates, and I promise to be very careful.
It is a problematic little bit because it does intersect and slightly skew the setting for an undisputed jewel of canon-but it doesn’t negate or override the Professor’s original intent in introducing the idea, it just provides food for thought for a character uniquely equipped to deal with it.
I refer, of course, to Gandalf’s “death is only another path” speech to Pippin, one of the most popular (if troubling) departures from canon the movie makes-the moment when Gandalf suggests to Pippin the concept of life-after-death, and casually infers that there is a place for mortals as well as immortals beyond the life of the world. This sudden revelation of imperishability (to a hobbit, no less) struck me as interesting, particularly in the context of an elderly Pippin, thinking now and then about his inevitable death.
The idea of “another path” is not beyond canon: Aragorn on his deathbed says to Arwen: “We are not bound forever to the circles of the world, and beyond them is more than memory….” But we’re quite aware of the fact that he never said it to anyone else in over a thousand pages, even as the Fellowship of the Ring faced death many times over. Was it a secret, entrusted only to a few? Or was Aragorn guessing, or hoping, or simply saying something to comfort Arwen as he died and the bitterness of her bride-price loomed before her?
Whatever the case may be, what that movie scene did was to turn an ethereal, deeply beautiful, and essentially conceptual narrative-that of Frodo’s slipping through the grey rain curtain of the world and coming to the shores of the Undying Lands-into a tangible reality for all mortals.
The first time I saw the scene, I was startled by its implications. I wondered-even as I brushed the tears from my eyes-what Pippin-a hobbit of simple and earthly origin, with no gods before him and no practical need of a path that circumvented the grave-could make of such an image as Gandalf presented him for the purpose of comfort in that moment? How would he process such an alien idea as awareness or place beyond death? And what would he do with that astonishing bit of information once he had lived through the perilous moment in question and got on with his life?
Well, I think he kept it a secret. Deliberately. I think he felt unequal to it, and more than a little confounded-but I also think he felt a pressing need to hold on to it (rather like the Palantir) until he figured out what it was and if it meant anything at all to him. This may seem out of character for Pippin; in the natural sequence of events he would certainly have shared it with Merry. But the sequence was unnatural to begin with, and in truth, I think Pippin did not want the wonderfully intelligent and always practical Merry to hold his strange new thought up to the harsh scrutiny of history and scientific principle-or to the inexplicable kindness of wizards-and casually render it meaningless when it certainly had come to mean something to him, however formless and indistinct that something was. Whether Merry would have done that or not remains to be seen; but I think Pippin at that time definitely still saw himself as a youngster, and unequal to Merry in matters of deep thought. And like a youngster he was moved to keep his little fancy secret, lest it be mocked.
I think he found it comforting to replay Gandalf’s “fancy” as time went on and his losses piled up, and I think by the time he was ready to speak of it, he had come to believe that it was an idea very like the Palantir: useful in purpose but dangerous in application for the unschooled. Thus when he decides to say something for the first time, he’s cagey about telling the whole story. He gives Pervinca just enough to ease her fears, and keeps the rest to himself. It’s safe with him, as it always has been, and he’ll take it with him when he goes.
Tolkien left a great deal open to possibility with regard to the Master and the Thain and their final Journey; it remains to be seen if I have the skill to make this slight departure work in truth and elegance in the world the Professor very deliberately made, but I’m going to try, very carefully, to see what comes of it. Certainly in the context of death, which this story must eventually embrace, it has some relevance.
There are no pictures this time, I’m sorry to say. Keeping up with two little boys under the age of five has rather done Rachel in for the time being. (And they are adorable little boys-I met them and they were lovely!) I’m hopeful she may be inspired again one of these days, but I don’t begrudge losing my pictures to two such fairy children!
I mean to start posting pictures of my adventure in England this week. But I’m struggling right now to figure out WHY the pictures all stick together in a collage rather than with spaces between them-what’s that about, anyway? Obviously, there’s a code I don’t know about-anybody have a suggestion?
Meanwhile, while I wait for guidance, here’s a preview. This is one of my most favorite places-it’s across and down the street from Jane Austen’s house in Chawton. It is a footpath (so noted by the sign to the left) and it is just magical. You can just imagine Jane (or indeed, various hobbits) slipping down this little path on their way to a picnic or the market. I don’t know if there was another street or a little riverbank on the other end of it; I never got a chance to slip down it myself! But I loved it on sight, and was sorry to leave it behind.