A short excerpt from my novel coming out on March 25:
London
June 20, 1971
Tolkien takes his pipe from the pocket of his tweed jacket, empties it in an ashtray, waves it in the air, fills it with tobacco, strikes a match, clutches the pipe in his teeth, and inhales. He looks over at Riis.
Tolkien clenches his jaw around his pipe as he speaks, which adds clicking and sucking sounds to his words. “Riis, my friend, remind me whatever became of that radio show of yours in the 1920s.”
“I’m afraid it only lasted a year.”
Tolkien frowns. “Radio had some potential for good, but it became in the main a weapon for the fool, the savage, and the villain to destroy thought.”
“True, Ronald. And radio and television are hardly the worst of our problems. Only a fool or a madman would look at the 20th Century with anything but horror.”
Tolkien nods. “The darkness and animal horror of trench warfare had some effect on my writings.”
Riis nods. “But the evil has been countered by the good, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yes. My Sam Gamgee is indeed a reflection of the English soldier, of the privates I knew in the 1914 war, and recognized as so far superior to myself.”
Tolkien speaks fast and never very clearly but we can understand what he’s saying. When his pipe is not in it he sometimes brings his hand up and grasps his mouth, making it even harder to hear him. But his soft, low voice, while unquestionably English, is also so deep it seems to come from another time and place.
Riis continues. “And then we faced the Nazis.”
“Blast! Who knew the Germans would be led by a man inspired by a mad, whirlwind devil? That ruddy little ignoramus Adolf Hitler. Made the poor old Kaiser look like an old woman knitting. Torture and disruption of personality – honest men of good will broke down into apostates and traitors. The odd thing about demonic inspiration and impetus is that it in no way enhances the intellect; it chiefly affects the mere will. Ruining, perverting, misapplying, and making forever accursed that noble northern spirit, a supreme contribution to Europe, which I have loved, and tried to present it in its true light.”
“You have succeeded at doing so,” Riis tells him. He thinks for a moment, then adds, “and in the time during which we’ve been staring down the Soviets.”
Tolkien nods. “I must admit that I smiled a kind of sickly smile when I heard of that bloodthirsty old murderer Josef Stalin inviting all nations to join a happy family of folks devoted to the abolition of tyranny and intolerance! What bunk!”
“Tough times.”
“Our lot fell on evil days, Riis. We were born in a dark age. But there is this comfort: otherwise we should not know, or so much love, what we do love.”
“True,” Riis replies.
“And we are Christians, so we do not expect history to be anything but a long defeat.”
“A long defeat,” Riis repeats.
“Though it contains some samples or glimpses of final victory.”
“Certainly,” says Riis.
“A small knowledge of history depresses us with the sense of the everlasting mass and weight of human iniquity: dreary, endless repetitive unchanging incurable wickedness. And at the same time, Riis, one knows that there is always good – much more hidden, much less clearly discerned.”
I’m finally relaxed enough in Tolkien’s presence to join the conversation. “And today?”
Tolkien looks at me. “I sometimes feel appalled at the thought of the sum total of human misery all over the world. If anguish were visible, almost the whole of this benighted planet would be enveloped in a dense dark vapor, shrouded from the amazed vision of the heavens!”
Bronwyn has worked up her confidence too. “You still have hope?”
Tolkien looks at her. “Evil labors with vast power and perpetual success – in vain, preparing always only the soil for unexpected good to sprout in. There is still some hope that things may be better for us, even on the temporal plane, in the Mercy of God. We need all our courage and guts – the stupendous vast sum of human courage and endurance – and all our religious faith to face the evil that may befall us.”
Bronwyn nods. “Perfectly said.”
“Well, I have talked quite long enough about that. I won’t enlarge on it.”
The long defeat is certainly a tragic concept. But it ties into Middle Earth very well. It took even longer to defeat Morgoth's lieutenant, Sauron, than it did Morgoth. (Not that overthrowing him was easy) But it was indeed a long defeat. Goes to show that the Christian experience might refute evil, but it also has to learn to be comfortable with the existence and even close presence of evil for long periods of time.