
noWizardme
Gondolin

Mar 2, 11:12am
Views: 8373
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. The Ending of Candide “The end of Candide is for me incontrovertible proof of genius of the first order; the stamp of the master is in that laconic conclusion, as stupid as life itself.” -Gustave Flaubert I’ll never be able to sum that up as well as Flaubert. The famous ending is, after all of the calamities, misfortunes, tortures and pains endured by Candide and his friends Pangloss, [etc], that the only solace is productive work and that excessive philosophizing is just a path to superfluous misery. “We must cultivate our garden,” says Candide, dismissing another of Pangloss’ arguments that everything has turned out for the best in this best of all possible worlds. By this point in the story, Pangloss has renounced his optimism but has decided to keep arguing for it anyway, because that’s what philosophers do. It’s nice to see the roots of literary and theatrical absurdism creep out from a satiric epic.
I haven't read Candide (I am trying to work through Paradise Lost, but have stalled). I did reflect that a lot of what one sees at present (and perhaps in any age) is the opposite opinion to Pangloss: that everything is doomed, or already spoiled: that 'resistance is useless'. Or that everthing needs to be burned down (or is going to be anyway) in the hope that something better will emerge, or that the speaker might be able to profit individually from the chaos they are causing or are witnessing. And, yes, this is about Tolkien, because these points of view turn up repeatedly in LOTR and Gandalf (speaking I imagine for Tolkien) gives them pretty short shrift: 'Such counsels will make the Enemy's victory certain indeed' he tells Denethor. And we probably all remember without me quoting it, his rather kinder reaction to Frodo wishing he didn't live 'in such times'. I think I could probably find a dozed or more further apposite quotes. But so, probably could most other Reading Room regulars, so let's not list them unless somebody asks. That in turn reminded me of something I really enjoyed in Brian Rosebury's book, Tolkien: A Cultural Phenomenon. In order to avoid a quotation of unfair length, I'll have to pick up part way through Dr Rosebury's discussion of why many readers who enjoy LOTR find The Silmarillion lacks the things they enjoyed in LOTR or TH:
According to this view, having accomplished The Lord of the Rings (for which The Hobbit is also an apprentice-piece), Tolkien proved incapable in his last years of bringing his mature mastery to bear upon transforming the recalcitrant material of 'The Silmarillion' into a comparably effective narrative. There is some truth in this view; certainly at its weakest The Silmarillion (especially if we have The Lord of the Rings freshly in mind) reads like preliminary notes towards a much fuller narrative, written up in an exhausting 'high style' which proceeds in stilted paragraphs, linked by the formulaic conjunctions, ‘And … Now…', and 'For …'. To find the strengths of The Silmarillion one must look to quite different qualities from those of The Lord of the Rings. And we should start by recognising that it is fundamentally different in mode and temper from that work: while The Lord of the Rings is a comedy, of which the keynote is joy enriched by regret, The Silmarillion is tragic, not to say bitter, in spirit. Its atmosphere comes as a shock to anyone who supposed (as it was natural to do before 1977) that Tolkien's entire literary career had been guided by the opinion, expressed in the essay 'On Fairy Stories', that ‘Tragedy is the true form of drama, its highest function; but the opposite is true of Fairy-story?'' This assertion, written just as the early chapters of The Lord of the Rings were unfolding, can now be seen to represent a turning-point in Tolkien's reflection on his own creativity. The Hobbit, written in the early 1930s as a children's adventure story, had certainly culminated in what Tolkien in the essay calls 'eucatastrophe', a happy ending, against the odds, which has emotional intensity and moral fittingness. The passage in 'On Fairy Stories' thus signals Tolkien's intention to take The Hobbit, in this respect, as the prototype for The Lord of the Rings - not the tragic 'Silmarillion', which he had hitherto regarded as his serious work for adults. It is true that The Silmarillion is as Augustinian in its theology as The Lord of the Rings - indeed the theology is fully explicit, as it is not in the latter work. But whereas in The Lord of the Rings the emphasis is ultimately upon the goodness of the created world, in The Silmarillion it falls upon the ubiquity of sin, the readiness with which created beings are deluded and corrupted, the tenacious power of pride, cupidity, and resentment, and the depths of cruelty and blasphemy to which they lead. Tolkien, a Cultural Phenomenon, by Brain Rosebury, Palgrave Macmillan, 2003 Now of course 'the ubiquity of sin, the readiness with which created beings are deluded and corrupted, the tenacious power of pride, cupidity, and resentment, and the depths of cruelty and blasphemy to which they lead' are very present in LOTR and they provide the 'in such times' circumstances of the adventures. And, perhaps unusually in the Fantasy genre, Tolkien has much to say about 'the readiness with which created beings are deluded and corrupted' applying to people who are far too sure of their own righteousness. But the hobbits - Merry Pippin and Sam especially (as Frodo is too busy with his internal/external struggle with the Ring) provide an important theme of the 'goodness of the created world'. At least to me. I htink they are ust as important, though different to the characters Merry is admiring as more conventionally heroic. And a further (intended, I think) irony is that Merry , when he gives that little speech in praise of those unsung heroes of whom hobbits are blissfuly unaware, has recently become one of the most conventionally heroic people in Middle-earth..
~~~~~~ "I am not made for querulous pests." Frodo 'Spooner' Baggins.
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