Tolkien, Dragons, and St. Andrews

by Christian on October 13, 2009

As I was researching here in St. Andrews on the history of Victorian theology, I stumbled upon a very interested rabbit that I had no choice but to chase.

In 1939, J. R. R. Tolkien, author of The Lord of the Rings trilogy, presented a paper on “Fairy Stories” here at St. Andrews. His paper was published in Essays Presented to Charles Williams (Oxford University Press), and it ignited his thoughts of creating a dragon named Smeagol who he would invent for his later tome, The Hobbit.

Smeagol originally bore the name Prystan, but Tolkien eventually changed it to Smaug (smog conveys the idea of fire, brimstone, fog) and later to Smeagol. An old English definition of Smeagun means to “inquire,” and perhaps Smeagol developed from the idea of burrowing or clawing through something. “Tolkien’s preferred smugan, from the past tense of the primitive Germanic verb Smugan, ‘to squeeze through a hole.’” Quoted from page 11 of Rachel Hart’s chapter on Tolkien and dragons.

In any case, Tolkien’s lectures at United College Hall in St. Andrews played a pivotol role in the formation of his fiction. “I think the result was entirely beneficial to The Lord of the Rings,” he wrote, “which was a practical demonstration of the views that I expressed” (11).

A Brief Word on Dragons

Dragons have often been associated with evil. Medieval artists painted dragonesque demons to portray Satan’s messengers. Many great civilizations have claimed dragons: Loong (China), Ryu (Japan), Naga (India), sárkánykígyó (Hungary), and so forth. In a Portuguese tradition, Coca is a dragon that duels with St. George and is eventually speared in the head.

A theology of the dragon would be interesting to research, I suppose, though I’m sure it’s been done ad naseum.

The Talmud refers to the Leviathan as having been created on the fifth day (see Talmud Baba Bathra 74b). The serpent in the Garden of Eden that tempted Eve is often associated with the dragon motif (originally the serpent had feet before it was cursed, see Genesis 3:14).

Perhaps the oldest book in the Hebrew tradition – Job – describes the Leviathan as a creature with tightly knit scales, unable to harpoon, who sneezes light and breathes fire (see Job 41). According to Psalm 74:14, the Leviathan had multiple heads. Isaiah 27:1 indicates that it “twisted like a serpent.”

The Midrash records a story in which Jonah was swallowed and regurgitated by the Leviathan (see Pirke de-Rabbi Eliezer).

Interestingly enough, it was in the context of snakes and scorpions that Jesus himself reflected on Satan who fell “like lightning from heaven” (Luke 10:17). John, too, when he was on the isle of Patmos, envisioned Satan as a dragon (Revelation 12).

Here in Scotland, the Loch Ness Monster (whom I have not yet encountered but constantly keep my eyes out for) fosters a particular curiosity. The first literary reference to the Loch Ness Monster occurred in 7th century in the Life of St. Columba by Adomnán.

Legend has it that St. Columba and his companions were traveling through Scotland and converting the Druids. A funeral was taking place along the banks of the Loch Ness River, and Columba asked what happened.

“A local villager was swimming in the River Ness,” one of the attendants said, “and a sea creature savagely attacked him. We heard his screams and tried to rescue him, but it was too late.”

To the astonishment of the crowd, one of Columba’s friends, Lugne Mocumin, jumped into Loch Ness to fetch a boat so they could travel to the other side. The bystanders on shore watched in horror as a sea creature, unsatisfied with its last meal, quickly pursued the swimming monk. Lugne swam with all his might, but the monster’s jaws encapsulated him.

Suddenly, Columba shouted with a loud voice, “Go no further, beast. Do not touch the man. Go back at once!”

According to Adomnán, when Columba invoked the name of God and made the sign of the cross, the creature fled in terror “so fast one might have thought it was pulled back with ropes.”

A few years ago, my wife and I were on a swamp tour in the bayous around New Orleans, and as we passed the bank of one swamp, I saw an albino alligator. Its bright red eyes, jagged teeth, and twisting scales assured me that I was staring at something that I didn’t want to experience up close and personally. Was this a dragon? Fits many medieval descriptions. Perhaps this creature isn’t merely relegated to ancient myth or canonical description?

Why Dragons?

What is it about the dragon that continues to attract us? Is it the fact that dragons are so shrouded in mystery? While humans are generally afraid of what we do not know – what we cannot categorize – we’re also strangely curious about it. Is it the lure of medieval chivalry, the lonesome knight slaying a dragon to woo and win the heart of a princess?

J. R. R. Tolkien was fascinated with the idea of the dragon, and it must have rubbed off on C. S. Lewis – the two frequently discussed their works together at Oxford’s Eagle and Child pub. When you read about Lewis’ dragon in The Great Divorce, you just can’t help but wonder how much of that creature originated from conversations with Tolkien.

Dragons will forever be a part of our culture. Tolkien’s dragon, Smeagol, is going to hit the big screen again this April in the release of Steven Spielberg’s The Hobbit. And to think: The Hobbit might never have been written had Tolkien not presented a paper right here in St. Andrews!

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