Painful beauty

[Corwyn Celesil]

The more I read Tolkien, the more certain things strike me with a pain because of their beauty. There are of all his books that are both painful and beautiful, and the two feelings are combined into what I call exquisite pain. Sometimes it is something that is full of pain and beauty at the same time, and sometimes it is something that is so beautiful it hurts.
For example, a good many of the bits about Rohan, the glorious calls that Theoden and Eomer give, are so beautiful they make my heart swell with something that is almost pain:
"Arise, arise, Riders of Theoden!
Fell deeds awake: fire and slaughter!
spear shall be shaken, shield be splintered,
a sword-day, a red day, ere the sun rises!
Ride now, ride now! Ride to Gondor!"
and:
"Out of doubt, out of dark to the day's rising
I came singing inthe sun, sword unsheathing.
To hope's end I rode and to heart's breaking:
Now for wrath, now for ruin and a red nightfall!"
I will post more as I think of them, but do any of you have any parts of the books (any, not just LotR) that strike you in the same way?
(I have a similar topic in the Movies forum, so if there are parts of the movies that evoke similar emotions, you can go there.)

[Alatariel]

Interesting topic. I think that one of the most outstanding examples of "painful beauty" is Galadriel when Frodo offers her the Ring. Here is the quote:

You will give me the Ring freely! In place of the Dark Lord you will set up a Queen. And I shall not be dark, but beautiful and terrible as the Morning and the Night! Fair as the Sea and the Sun and the Snow upon the Mountain! Dreadful as the Storm and the Lightnigh! Stronger than the foundations of the earth. All shall love me and despair!

I think the last line, especially, shows exactly what you are talking about. I'm sure there are a million more examples, but this is what first comes to mind.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 1:51 AM January 10, 2004: Message edited by: Alatariel ]

[Lyta_Underhill]

Great topic, Corwyn! This is indeed a very well defined notion in Tolkien's works. The quote that most eloquently expresses the concept to me is found in ROTK Bk. VI, Chapter 4: The Field of Cormallen

And all the host laughed and wept, and in the midst of their merriment and tears the clear voice of the minstrel rose like silver and gold, and all men were hushed. And he sang to them, now in the Elven-tongue, now in the speech of the West, until their hearts, wounded with sweet words, overflowed, and their joy was like swords, and they passed in thought out to regions where pain and delight flow together and tears are the very wine of blessedness.

Indeed, not all tears are an evil, as Gandalf might say (did say at the Grey Havens!). This concept is an exquisite one, sought after for years by C.S. Lewis as well, this painful joy. It is captured so well in so many places in Tolkien's works and is one reason I keep reading them over and over and over... [img]smilies/smile.gif[/img]

Cheers!
Lyta

[Leyrana Silumiel]

Hi, Corwyn! Nice idea! Do you mind if I use a variant of it for my thesis? I've always liked that quote by Galadriel about being a beautiful, terrible queen, and I want to use it somewhere in my paper.

[Corwyn Celesil]

Lyta, thank you for your post! I love that quote from RotK, and I had completely forgotten about it when I started the thread. Tolkien does indeed express much better than I can exactly what I mean.

until their hearts, wounded with sweet words, overflowed, and their joy was like swords, and they passed in thought out to regions where pain and delight flow together and tears are the very wine of blessedness.

The passage itself is exquisitely worded.

[Earendilyon]

Two quotes from "The Battle of the Pelennor Fields" I find so very beautifull and very painfull:

Then Théoden was aware of him, and would not wait for his onset, but crying to Snowmane he charged headlong to greet him. Great was the clash of their meeting. But the white fury of the Northmen burned the hotter, and more skilled was their knighthood with long spears and bitter. Fewer were they but they clove through the Southrons like a fire-bolt in a forest. Right through the press drove Théoden Thengel's son, and his spear was shivered as he threw down their chieftain. Out swept his sword, and he spurred to the standard, hewed staff and bearer; and the black serpent foundered. Then all that was left unslain of their cavalry turned and fled far away.

And he looked at the slain, recalling their names. Then suddenly he beheld his sister Éowyn as she lay, and he knew her. He stood a moment as a man who is pierced in the midst of a cry by an arrow through the heart; and then his face went deathly white; and a cold fury rose in him, so that all speech failed him for a while. A fey mood took him.
'Éowyn, Éowyn!' he cried at last: 'Éowyn, how come you here? What madness or devilry is this? Death, death, death! Death take us all!'
Then without taking counsel or waiting for the approach of the men of the City, he spurred headlong back to the front of the great host, and blew a horn, and cried aloud for the onset. Over the field rang his clear voice calling: 'Death! Ride, ride to ruin and the world's ending!'
And with that the host began to move. But the Rohirrim sang no more. Death they cried with one voice loud and terrible, and gathering speed like a great tide their battle swept about their fallen king and passed, roaring away southwards.

[Eothain Elfwine]

Beautiful passages, Earendilyon. I many of the Rohirrim passages are so beautiful and painful they move me to tears:

Fey he seemed, or the battle-fury of his fathers ran like new fire in his veins, and he was borne up on Snowmane like a god of old, even as Orome the Great in the battle of the Valar when the world was young. His golden shield was uncovered, and lo! it shone like an image of the Sun, and the grass flamed into green about the white feet of his steed. For morning came, morning and a wind from the sea; and darkeness was removed, and the hosts of Mordor wailed and terror took them, and they fled, and died, and the hoofs of wrath rode over them. And then all the host of Rohan burst into song, and they sang as they slew, for the joy of battle was on them, and the sound of their singing that was fair and terrible came even to the City.

Still she did not blench: a maiden of the Rohirrim, child of kings, slender but as a steel-blade, fair yet terrible.

"Out of doubt, out of dark to the day's rising
I came singing inthe sun, sword unsheathing.
To hope's end I rode and to heart's breaking:
Now for wrath, now for ruin and a red nightfall!"
These staves [Eomer] spoke, yet he laughed as he said them. For once more lust of battle was on him; and he was still unscathed, and he was young, and he was king: the lord of a fell people.

[elenquesse]

With a gasp Frodo cast himself on the ground. Sam sat by him. To his surprise he felt tired but lighter, and his head seemed clear again. No more debates disturbed his mind. He knew all the arguments of despair and would not listen to them. His will was set, and only death would break it. He felt no longer either desire or need of sleep, but rather of watchfulness. He knew that all hazards and perils were now drawing together to a point: the next day would be a day of doom, the day of final effort or disaster, the last gasp.

...Then she fell on her knees, saying: 'I beg thee!'

'Nay, lady,' he said, and taking her by the hand he raised her. Then he kissed her hand, and sprang into the saddle, and rode away, and did not look back; and only those who knew him well and were near to him saw the pain that he bore.

But Éowyn stood as a figure carven in stone, her hands clenched at her sides, and she watched them until they passed into the shadows under the black Dwimorberg, the Haunted Mountain, in which was the Door of the Dead. When they were lost to view, she turned, stumbling as one that is blind, and went back to her lodging...

And Éowyn looked at Faramir long and steadily; and Faramir said: 'Do not scorn pity that is the gift of a gentle heart, Éowyn! But I do not offer you my pity. For you are a lady high and valiant and have yourself won renown that shall not be forgotten; and you are beautiful, I deem, beyond even the words of the Elven-tongue to tell. And I love you. Once I pitied your sorrow. But now, were you sorrowless, without fear or any lack, were you the blissful of Queen of Gondor still I would love you. Éowyn, do you not love me?

Then the heart of Éowyn changed, or else at last she understood it. And suddenly her winter passed, and the sun shone on her...

...And he took her in his arms and kissed her under the sunlit sky, and he cared not they stood high upon the walls in the sight of many.

(I memorized most of the last one [img]smilies/tongue.gif[/img])

[symestreem]

Hmm... most of these are about the Rohirrim, especially at war, especially the Battle of the Pelennor Fields. I wonder why?

[Firefoot]

I can think of two passages right now that I feel really applies to this topic.

"Alas! there are some wounds that cannot be wholly cured," said Gandalf.
"I fear it may be so with mine," said Frodo. "There is no going back. Though I may come to the Shire, it will not seem the same; for I shall not be the same. I am wounded with knife, sting, and tooth, and a long burden. Where shall I find rest?

"But," said Sam, and tears started in his eyes, "I thought you were going to enjoy the Shire, too, for years and years, anfter all you have done."
"So I thought too, once. But I have been too deeply hurt, Sam. I tried to save the Shire and it has been saved, but not for me. It must often be so, Sam, when things are in danger: some one has to give them up, lose them, so that others may keep them."

I think that the sacrifice that Frodo made is in and of itself painful beauty. There are other parts of the book that emphasize this but I think that these two sum it up pretty well.

[Teleri]

And as if in answer there came from far away another note. Horns, horns, horns. In dark Mindolluin's sides they dimly echoed. Great horns of the North wildly blowing. Rohan had come at last.

There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach.

And now I shall appologize in advance for being blatantly obvious, but...

He drew a deep breath. "Well, I'm back," he said.

[Teleri]

Oh, I forgot one!

Gollom looked at them. A strange expression passed over his lean hungry face. The gleam faded from his eyes, and they went dim and grey, old and tired. A spasm of pain seemed to twist him, and he turned away, peering back up towards the pass, shaking his head, as if engaged in some interior debate. Then he came back, and slowly putting out a trembling hand, very cautiously he touched Frodo's knee - but almost the touch was a caress. For a fleeting moment, could one of the sleepers have seen him, they would have thought that they beheld and old weary hobbit, shrunken by the years thet had carried him far beyond his time, beyond friends and kin, and the fields and streams of youth, an old starved pitiable thing.

[Corwyn Celesil]

Then to the wonder of many Aragorn did not put the crown upon his head, but gave it back to Faramir, and said: 'By the loabour and valour of many I have come into my inheritance. In token of this I would have the Ring-bearer bring teh crown to me, and let Mithrandir set it upon my head, if he will; for he has been the mover of all that has been accomplised, and this is his victory.'
Then Frodo came forward and tookt he crown from Faramir and bore it to Gandalf; and Aragorn knelt, and Gandalf set the White Crown upon his head, and said:
'Now come the days of the King, andmay they be blessed while the thrones of the Valar endure!'
But when Aragorn arose all that behld him gazed in silence, for it seemed to them that he was revealed to them now for the first time. Tall as the sea-kings of old, he stood above all that were near; ancient of days he seemed and yet in the flower of manhood; and wisdom sat upon his brow, and strength and healing were in his hands, and a light was about him. And then Faramir cried:
'Behold the King!'

[Corwyn Celesil]

I think that my realization of the emotional nature of the beauty in LotR, book and film, has opened not necessarily my eyes but my emotions to beauty and painful beauty. I've found myself tearing up at so many things recently whose beauty has suddenly struck me. It's a kind of aching longing for that beauty which will never be fulfilled in this world but will be some day.

[Corwyn Celesil]

The hobbits did not understand [Bombadil's] words, but as he spoke they had a vision as it were of a great expanse of years behind them, like a vast shadowy plain over which there strode shapes of Men, tall and grim with bright swords, and last came one with a star on his brow.

In his living face they caught a brief vision of the power and majesty of the kings of stone. For a moment it seemed to the eyes of Legolas that a whilte flame flickered on the brows of Aragorn like a shining crown.

[Aragorn] was clad in black mail girt with silver, and he wore a long mantle of pure white slasped at the throat with a great jewel of green that shone from afar; but his head was bare save for a star on his forehead, bound by a slender fillet of silver.

[mark12_30]

"But," said Sam, and tears started in his eyes, "I thought you were going to enjoy the Shire, too, for years and years, after all you have done."

"So I thought too, once. But I have been too deeply hurt, Sam. I tried to save the Shire, and it has been saved, but not for me. It must often be so, Sam, when things are in danger: some one has to give them up, lose them, so that others may keep them. But you are my heir: all that I had and might have had I leave to you. And also you have Rose, and Elanor; and Frodo-lad will come, and Rosie-lass, and Merry, and Goldilocks, and Pippin; and perhaps more that I cannot see. Your hands and your wits will be needed everywhere. You will be the Mayor, of course, as long as you want to be, and the most famous gardener in history; and you will read things out of the Red Book, and keep alive the memory of the age that is gone, so that people will remember the Great Danger and so love their beloved land all the more. And that will keep you as busy and as happy as anyone can be, as long as your part of the Story goes on. Come now, ride with me!"

[the phantom]

From the Silmarillion (the quote is describing part of the music that formed the world)-

The one was deep and wide and beautiful, but slow and blended with an immeasurable sorrow, from which its beauty chiefly came.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 12:49 AM January 15, 2004: Message edited by: the phantom ]

[doug*platypus]

Excellent thread, Corwyn.

Hmm... most of these are about the Rohirrim, especially at war, especially the Battle of the Pelennor Fields. I wonder why?

I think that the whole idea of painful beauty, of heroic deaths, of suffering with a purpose, is something that comes down to us from a past age. I don't know much about the history of the Anglo-Saxons, Goths, Norsemen, etcetera, but it seems to me that these kind of feelings were really a part of their warrior nature. One of the most touching lines for me is Aragorn's final farewell to Théoden (especially after we know what Théoden's fate will be):

Farewell, lord! Ride unto great renown!

Rohan is very much a society where a Valhalla could exist; a separate, glorious heaven which rewarded those who died in battle. Gondor in sharp contrast (at least the Gondor that Faramir believes in, if not the Gondor that Boromir would have had) is a society where the wisdom of healers is greatly revered, and life revolves around battle only through unfortunate necessity.

Our own modern society is much more like Gondor than Rohan, and in my opinion painful beauty has much less clout than it used to, at least in western society. I have heard Lush hint on another thread that this may not be completely so in Eastern European or Slavic cultures, and that death is treated quite differently to how it is in Aotearoa/New Zealand, Australia and I presume other western states such as the USA, Britain and Canada (sorry if I left anyone out, that's not an exhaustive list!).

Whether we're enlightened or just plain boring, the fact remains that a death in battle, or battle in general is not what it once was. I was reading an article yesterday in Time magazine about soldiers maimed in the recent Gulf War; about the terrible cost in terms of injury. The point was made that the dead are reported more frequently than the wounded. It is more acceptable (from a political point of view) for a death to be reported. Then we may hope to keep alive some of this painful beauty for those who supposedly fell valiantly defending our ideals. It is infinitely harder to look at the pain-drawn face of a recent amputee and find beauty in it. Which is why The Lord of the Rings, for better or for worse, makes no mention of the grisly casualties involved in a medieval style war. Tolkien has tried to convey to us the glorified vision of righteous warfare, and gives us less of the other side of the coin, the human suffering (a notable exception is Théoden's proud and stirring rebuke to Saruman).

[Finwe]

I suppose that the reason that deaths are reported more than wounds is that you can't really console someone about a wound. It would be an extremely awkward situation, and perhaps the person would take affront at being given "charity." The reaction to a death is much more "standardized." You send flowers, condolence cards, etc, whereas with a wound, that would just be really awkward.