Beginning with the exile of Adam and Eve from Eden after their fall into original sin, humanity has lived marked by an acute nostalgia for paradise. This is why even modern secular culture incessantly conveys—through advertisements, films, music, and all imaginable means—trivial and sometimes veiled references to Paradise. Emphasizing the omnipresence of these images, one of the most distinguished Romanian intellectuals, Horia-Roman Patapievici, stated that at the heart of Western culture lies “the principle of paradise.” As a refined connoisseur of the works of Dante Alighieri and other great classical writers and poets, Patapievici makes this assertion primarily considering the constant presence of paradisiacal themes and motifs in literature. But for someone to recognize them, he must first know the main features of Paradise.
By reading the multitude of texts recorded by the history of religions, we can describe them based on the hierarchy of senses that provide human beings with knowledge of the world. Thus, sight perceives a light of indescribable beauty that never fades; the colors are very vivid, beautiful, and much purer and brighter than we can conceive here and now. Hearing perceives the music of angelic choirs praising their Creator or the music of the cosmic spheres (Plato and Saint Hildegard); in some descriptions, even creatures have musical sounds (the waters, the branches of trees, etc.). Smell detects indescribable fragrances and aromas, especially those of unseen flowers and celestial fruits. Taste is satisfied by all the delights of a royal feast in which fruits—intended in Eden for Adam and Eve as food—occupy a central place. To all these are added immortality, mild climate, abundance, and the non-existence of enslaving work.
Without exception, all the mentioned traits can be found in the stories of J.R.R. Tolkien. The lands of the imaginary world created by the master of Faërie contain vast symbols of the unseen world that synthesize the traits—beneficial or malevolent—of good and evil clashing in a conflict of cosmic proportions. Tolkien’s vision is an apocalyptic one, revealing the unseen war that has been unfolding since the beginnings of creation between God-Ilúvatar and the rebellious angelic forces led by the satanic Melkor. But as the apocalypse cannot be devoid of the two antagonistic cities—Babylon (the city of the devil) and Jerusalem (the city of God)—Tolkien’s work is not devoid of terrifying fortresses embodying the malevolence of evil and rebellion, opposed by the bright, luminous cities of forces adhering to the divine imperative of good. To convince ourselves of this, I will analyze the descriptive elements of a few of the lands representing the luminous pole of Middle-Earth.
No land in Arda can compare with the country where the Valar dwell. Named Valinor or “The Guarded Realm,” it fully proves the influence of the paradisiacal archetype on Tolkien’s stories, especially as it bears the rare attribute of eternity:
Behind the walls of the Pelori the Valar established their domain in that region which is called Valinor; and there were their houses, their gardens, and their towers. In that guarded land the Valar gathered great store of light and all the fairest things that were saved from the ruin; and many others yet fairer they made anew, and Valinor became more beautiful even than Middle-Earth in the Spring of Arda; and it was blessed, for the Deathless dwelt there, and there naught faded nor withered, neither was there any stain upon flower or leaf in that land, nor any corruption or sickness in anything that lived; for the very stones and waters were hallowed.
If the most prominent feature of heaven is immortality, at the level of the fallen world this is prefigured by a characteristic sign of those who live here: a life much longer than that of ordinary beings. The most well-known land in all of Middle-Earth, the Shire, will experience a state similar to that of paradise after the defeat of the dark sorcerer, Sauron.
Located in the northwest of Middle-Earth, the homeland of Samwise Gamgee is bordered to the north by the North Farthing and the Twilight Hills, to the west by the Westfarthing, to the south by the Sarn Ford, and to the east by the Old Forest. It is the place where the hobbits live, among whom were the two Ring-bearers, Bilbo and Frodo Baggins. Although not much is known about the circumstances in which their race settled here, it is very likely that they came from the upper valleys of the Anduin River, from where they left when men began to settle in their lands. Not only was this the reason for their relocation, but also the growing shadow that fell over the forest. In the year 1601, King Argeleb II granted land to the hobbits who came from Bree, thus establishing their right over the land. The spoken language was Westron or “the common tongue.” The entire land was under the authority of a Thain, who had more of a ceremonial role than a real one, as the inhabitants were both peaceful and good stewards.
The most disturbing event in the Shire was the invasion of orcs in the year 2747, when Bandobras Took distinguished himself by leading his small army to victory. The last historical page of the Shire was written in November of the year 3019, when Frodo and his companions, freshly returned from the great adventure of the Ring, defeated Saruman’s henchmen who had tried to forcibly occupy their small country. After this final confrontation with evil, the Shire undergoes a transformation that makes the indescribable goodness and beauties of Paradise visible, as they are found in the descriptions of the Judeo-Christian tradition:
His trees began to sprout and grow, as if time was in a hurry and wished to make one year do for twenty. In the Party Field a beautiful young sapling leaped up: it had silver bark and long leaves and burst into golden flowers in April. It was indeed a mallorn, and it was the wonder of the neighbourhood. In after years, as it grew in grace and beauty, it was known far and wide and people would come long journeys to see it: the only mallorn west of the Mountains and east of the Sea, and one of the finest in the world.
Altogether 1420 in the Shire was a marvelous year. Not only was there wonderful sunshine and delicious rain, in due times and perfect measure, but there seemed something more: an air of richness and growth, and a gleam of a beauty beyond that of mortal summers that flicker and pass upon this Middle-Earth. All the children born or begotten in that year, and there were many, were fair to see and strong, and most of them had a rich golden hair that had before been rare among hobbits. The fruit was so plentiful that young hobbits very nearly bathed in strawberries and cream; and later they sat on the lawns under the plum-trees and ate, until they had made piles of stones like small pyramids or the heaped skulls of a conqueror, and then they moved on. And no one was ill, and everyone was pleased, except those who had to mow the grass.
A rich and fertile land, adorned with flowers, fruit trees, and clear rivers, whose distinctive color is the green of the grass and trees, the Shire is a true prefiguration of the heavenly Jerusalem seen by St. John in his mystical vision. Sometimes troubled by dangers, the land of the hobbits remains, nonetheless, a luminous symbol of Paradise. Marked by the nostalgia of a childhood spent in a pre-industrial world, unaffected by pollution and mechanical artifacts, Tolkien encrypted some of his own memories into the idyllic image of the Shire.
Both in The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, one of the most beautiful lands is that ruled by Elrond, known as Rivendell—“The Last Homely House.” Bilbo is the first hobbit to know its celestial beauties while he was—along with Thorin and his company—on the way to Smaug’s fortress. The descriptions make our words superfluous:
Bilbo never forgot the way they slithered and slipped in the dusk down the steep zigzag path into the secret valley of Rivendell. The air grew warmer as they got lower, and the smell of the pine-trees made him drowsy, so that every now and again he nodded and nearly fell off, or bumped his nose on the pony’s neck. Their spirits rose as they went down and down. The trees changed to beech and oak, and there was a comfortable feeling in the twilight. The last green had almost faded out of the grass, when they came at length to an open glade not far above the banks of the stream.
A place of rest and a life seemingly beyond history, it was said that evil never penetrated the valley of Rivendell. Recovering after nearly perishing from a wound inflicted by the leader of the Nazgûl, the Witch-King of Angmar, Frodo Baggins fully experiences the blessings of the Last Homely House, which presents itself to him as a true fragment of paradise:
The light of the clear autumn morning was now glowing in the valley. The noise of bubbling waters came up from the foaming river-bed. Birds were singing, and a wholesome peace lay on the land.
Equally fragrant and enchanting with the light and music that enveloped it is the dwelling of the wood elves, led by Celeborn and Galadriel, when the members of the Fellowship of the Ring reach Lothlórien. Endowed by God-Ilúvatar with the gift of immortality, the elves impart something of their eternity to all the places and creatures they govern; the forests, rivers, flowers, trees, and animals around them all seem to come from another world, one of unfading light:
Day came pale from the East. As the light grew it filtered through the yellow leaves of the Mallorn, and it seemed to the hobbits that the early sun of a cool summer’s morning was shining. Pale-blue sky peeped among the moving branches. Looking through an opening on the south side of the flet Frodo saw all the valley of the Silverlode lying like a sea of fallow gold tossing gently in the breeze.
However, nothing is as striking in Lothlórien as the feeling of eternity, of immortality, of that nunc stans of which Saint Augustine speaks. It is precisely this feeling that allows access to the past, to the primordial times of Middle-Earth’s origins, just as later, before Galadriel’s Mirror, it will allow Frodo a glimpse into the future:
As soon as he set foot upon the far bank of Silverlode a strange feeling had come upon him, and it deepened as he walked on into the Naith: it seemed to him that he had stepped over a bridge of time into a corner of the Elder Days, and was now walking in a world that was no more. In Rivendell there was memory of ancient things; in Lorien the ancient things still lived on in the waking world.
After leaving those miraculous lands, Frodo, Legolas, and Sam become increasingly aware that where things are perfect, and where beauty, goodness, and truth reign, time flows more slowly.
Although not entirely free from the burden of time’s passage, the elvish realm of Lothlórien represents an image of the earthly paradise. The abode of Queen Galadriel seems to be the Eden of Middle-Earth, that place where the primordial parents Adam and Eve experienced the early joy of divine grace, as well as the sorrow caused by the first sin. The beauty of Lothlórien, the perfection of its forms, and especially the absence of any imperfection, show us that we are dealing with a heavenly realm:
The others cast themselves down upon the fragrant grass, but Frodo stood awhile still lost in wonder. It seemed to him that he had stepped through a high window that looked on a vanished world. A light was upon it for which his language had no name. All that he saw was shapely, but the shapes seemed at once clear cut, as if they had been first conceived and drawn at the uncovering of his eyes, and ancient as if they had endured forever. He saw no colour but those he knew, gold and white and blue and green, but they were fresh and poignant, as if he had at that moment first perceived them and made for them names new and wonderful. In winter here no heart could mourn for summer or for spring. No blemish or sickness or deformity could be seen in anything that grew upon the earth. On the land of Lorien there was no stain.
If we consider the characteristics of Paradise present in various religious traditions, we can easily compare and identify them with the features of the wondrous lands in Middle-Earth. The eyes are always delighted by a gentle and radiant light. The ears are enchanted by the melodious murmur of waters or the songs of birds of all kinds. The nostrils are thrilled by pleasant scents, dominated by the fragrance of inviting flowers and fruits. If Plato spoke of the more vivid colors of the celestial world compared to which the colors of our world pale, Tolkien’s descriptions also depict colors much more beautiful and intense than anything the hobbits and their companions had known.
Adding the sense of eternity, manifested also through very long lifespans, undisturbed by illness or other sufferings, we find a complete picture of the Kingdom of Heaven towards which, consciously or unconsciously, every person—whether ancient or modern—yearns. J.R.R. Tolkien described things this way not only due to literary and mytho-religious influences, but also because of his desire to make the essence of his novels as transparent as possible: in short, it is about the struggle between the Kingdom of Heaven and the Kingdom of Darkness, between the benign forces of good serving God and the malevolent forces subjected to fallen angels. And the battleground is none other than the world of men and other races, aptly named by the author, Middle-Earth.
