February 24, 2004
2401 Whitis Ave
217 Andrews
Austin, TX 78705
To my Dear Inklings (Tollers and Lewis):
I am hesitant to write this. You are my heroes. I grew up reading your work. You taught and shared with me the worlds in which you live. I have created my very own world. I have always wished to meet you someday and hear from your mouths about your lives. Instead, I researched your lives and pondered what it must be like to be at Oxford in England. I once visited London. I was impressed by the immense size of the city and how deep its roots were buried in the ground. My visit occurred years ago, when I was in junior high. Those were awkward years. However, I am not writing this to speak to you of the discomforts of my past. Nor am I writing this in order to sing my verbose praises to your works, of which I am sure you get plenty. I wish to relate to you the incredible experiences which I have encountered here at the University of Texas.
You know nothing of me, so I guess I will describe myself
in brief. I am a young maid of nineteen (and even younger at heart) with
waist-long, flowing, red-copper hair that dances in the wind. I am outspoken,
yet secretive. I love to explore every place or thought I encounter. I scribble
my thoughts and poetry out in blue pen on scraps of paper which occasionally
lose themselves among my odd possessions and books which crowd my bookcases.
Littlefield House
I reside in a small cave near a large
Victorian castle. The rooms inside are immense and decorated lavishly. While
wandering about inside, one cannot help but be struck by the elegance of the
place. Griffins adorn the mantle within the castle. I snuck around inside while
the royalty who lives there were out for a late fall picnic at Zilker Park. The
daughter of the family has been struck by tuberculosis and suffers many pains.
She is a
tragic young woman who fell madly in love with a young
man who has since moved west to take over his father’s ranch. Sometimes late at
night I can hear her sobs as they float mournfully past my window. Poor child!
Just down the hill and around a
large, carved outcropping of rock from my cave is a small pond. Sometimes I
flee there in an attempt to escape the worries that dart and scurry inside my
head. The summer sun warms the earth and makes the small spot of grass and
nature about it seem its own world of solitude and solace. A few pigeons, in
search of food, gather around the pond. Many turtles also take pleasure in the
delights of this pond. I enjoy watching the fish flit playfully in the pond.
Occasionally, I ponder what it would be like to be in their fins. The Tower of
Time rises high above the pond. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! The Tower sings the time out
to all who can hear. Frightened, the pigeons alight and circle the pond before
landing again to return to their troughs. I have stopped carrying a watch. I,
like you Lewis, find it too much of a trouble to “remember to wind it” (Duriez
77). I also find that constant awareness of time does not lead to happiness but
rather obsession and worry.
Another
spot which I enjoy is hidden from the unobservant passerby. It is a small,
quiet creek which evil gremlins dirty at night. The gremlins have large
drinking parties under rock coverings. However, during the day, small fairies,
woodland creatures and the occasional nymph can been seen dancing in the
sunlight and water. On a visit here once before, I observed nature in full
force as a bird attempted to snatch a snake for an afternoon snack. Luckily,
for the snake, he managed to escape under a rock. These waters are dear to my
heart; I baptized myself into the world of nature here. Afterwards, my eyes
were open to the beauty which enfolded in the world around me. I could see even
buildings and have respect for their beauty. Trees which I had never before
seen, sprung from the ground and strove to reach the clear blue sky. I feel as
if these places are my own. Whenever I feel pressed by society, I escape to
these places harbored in the folds of the campus of the University.
I read (study) Plan II and Physics. Right off this might sound a bit foreign. Plan II is a program which attempts to make this large university small. It attempts to mimic the experiences which a student could receive at Oxford. Broadening the horizons of young students is on the program’s agenda. I read physics as well. I wish to understand how the world works. Ultimately, I wish I understand how the human brain works, specifically my own.
Tower of Rlm
Most of my classes take place in the
Tower of Rlm. It is tall and made of harsh, cold stone. On the roof, a large
telescope is positioned in order to aid in the reading of the stars. Inside the
Tower of Rlm, people bustle about, some as zombies plodding class to class
being talked at by teacher after teacher. On the ground floor of this tower is
a small ledge from which they toss coffee and provisions to the hoards of
sleep-deprived zombies.
My Cave Tower of Time
I enjoy my classes and my environment at this University;
however, every night, I look forward to returning to my humble cave in which I
gather my sleeping bags about me and slowly slip into a quiet, calm slumber. At
the break of dawn, the Tower of Time rings out to the wild sky and summons me
from my sleep.
This is what college life here at the University of Texas at Austin is like for me. I hope that you could clue me into the romantic life at Oxford.
Always yours,
Eve Garden
1 March 1938
Magdalen College
Miss Garden,
Thank you for yours of the 24th. I hope to answer your questions sorry if I am but brief. For one, I would like to say I quite like your name. It has a nice ring to it. I do most heartily agree with you about time. Time is not something that should be so meticulously measured and worried about. You arrive when you will and no earlier.
As you should know, if you have done the research you claim, that I am part of the Inklings and before that the Coalbiters. However, the latter was not a transformation to the former. Tolkien was the star of the Coalbiters. He could translate twenty pages of Norse easily, while the others and I had troubles completing just one half of one page. Tollers and I have a strong friendship. I never would have been so successful without his help and I would dare say that I have been a large help to him as well. Shortly after the Coalbiters faded from existence, the Inklings grew to replace the time I had once spent on the Coalbiters. However, as Inklings, we meet together to see if “nobody got anything to read?” (Grotta 91). We share our work as well others we admire. As Inklings we grew to be great comrades. Conversations on any variety of subjects are liable to spring up. Just the other day, Tollers and I had a fabulous discussion on dragons. The men across the bar were astounded that we could be so passionate about a subject.
J.R.R. Tolkien
I
wish to add a few words on Tollers here. I doubt that he would tell you too
much of himself. He is a man very much like a hobbit except for size. He loves
gardening and wears fashionable waistcoats. He smokes often and much. He rarely
removes his pipe from his mouth to speak. If you are not accustomed to his
speech, he is a mite bit difficult to understand. If you met him, I am sure you
would love him.
My
life here at Oxford is very dear to me. I have rooms here at Magdalen College.
They are in the New Building (at the top of the picture) which was built in
1733. My rooms hold a few bookcases and a desk, but other than that, they are
sparsely furnished. I hold my classes in my rooms. I am just a lecturer. My
classes are small and I tutor students as well. I have been passed over twice
so far for a Chair. I hope to be honored with one soon. Tollers has one in
Merton College. The buildings here are amidst the branches of trees. Sometimes
I forget that I am in a box. Our tower here reminds me of your “tower of time;”
however, I dare say that ours is grander and more gothic and beautiful.
Occasionally, I brave the narrow, steep, spiraling staircase to climb to the
top of the tower and look out over the college. Green foliage covers all that
is visible. It is said that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but I cannot
imagine any beholder that could not see the beauty here. On the first day of
May, the Madgalen choir climbs the stairs and summons the dawn to break with
melodious song. It is quite an event I here. I have yet to bother to attend. The
students here are hard working. I enjoy the tutor sessions which I am charged
to run; however, I enjoy the Inklings’s meetings more. Sometimes, I like to
wander about the green areas of the college. But I prefer the open spaces near
my home.
My
brother, Warnie, and I reside in a small cottage called “The Kilns.” We share
an office together. Both of our desks are disorderly, but I keep order in my
mind. On the wall to the right of my desk is a picture that was on the wall in
the nursery when I was a child. It is a picture of the Golden Valley which is
along the River Dore. When I was young, I used to think of it as heaven. I
always hoped that one day I would turn around a bend and see that Valley.
However, as I child I had no idea it was an actual place. There was a large
wardrobe in the nursery as well. Currently, it is kept in the attic of our home
where no one goes too often any longer. Although I keep these mementoes of my
past, something has driven me “out of the nursery and into the world of others
and that something is suffering” (Shadowlands). My mother dying when I was nine
years old was my first taste of pain. The first time is always the worst.
However, “the pain is part of the happiness now” (Shadowlands). I wish for you
to keep these bits of knowledge in mind as you travel throughout your life. I
think they will aid in a more full enjoyment of life.
Well, I must get back to my writings. I dearly hope that this might help you get a clearer picture of lovely Oxford.
Sincerely,
Jack
3 March 1938
76 Sandfield Road
Headington
Oxford
Miss Garden,
I hope that Jack has written you back. He mentioned your letter to me last night at the Inklings meeting which was held at the Eagle and Child or as we, the Inklings, like to say, the Bird and Baby. What a lovely meeting it was! The Inklings are mainly centered around Lewis. I am sure that he is too modest to say so. I am glad that Lewis is Christian now. I took him from atheism to the Church of England, but that is as far as he made it. I do wish he were Roman Catholic.
To address your question of the sense of place at Oxford, I would dare say it is a tad bit greener than your campus. Yours sounds full of buildings and rock and cement with small refuges of grass and trees. It is not right that the cement hides such greenery. I love the sound of that small creek you described. It sounds like it could have great potential if you could remove the gremlins. Your creek reminds me of the Cherwell which runs along Magdalen and Christ Church meadows. Here at Oxford we have a lake at Worcester College which, from the sounds of it, dwarfs your small pond of turtles. At every college at Oxford are gardens which are perfectly manicured. The greens in Austin sound more rugged and wild, like the style of America.
I
am enclosing for you a picture of my rooms here at Merton College. I enjoy
having my own bit of space here where I can accomplish my work.
I
am sure Jack told you that I am much like a hobbit in my appearance; perhaps he
even called me Bilbo.
He could also be considered hobbit-like; however
personally I would say that he is more Entish. He has a loud booming voice,
much like the Tower of Time which you describe so beautifully. He is a very
honest and well-spoken man. I do hate to cut this short, but I must get back to
my marking of papers. I hope I have given you a personal glance into this
blessed place of Oxford. Professors just do not get paid enough to support a
family.
Sincerely,
Tollers
Excerpt from the diary of Eve Garden
...how fabulous Oxford sounds, perhaps not too different from this blessed University of Texas. I am sure that Oxford has a much more noble, old, and distinguished feel to it, though….
Word Count: 2299
Bibliography
Attenborough, Richard. Shadowlands. Savoy Pictures, In: 1993.
Carpenter, Humphrey. Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien. George Allen & Unwin: London, 1981.
Duriez, Colin. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis: The Gift of Friendship. Hidden Spring: Mahwah,
2003.
Grotta, Daniel. The Biography of J.R.R. Tolkien: Architect of Middle-Earth. Running
Press: Philadelphia, 1974.