In this biweekly series, we’re exploring the evolution of both major and minor figures in Tolkien’s legendarium, tracing the transformations of these characters through drafts and early manuscripts through to the finished work. This week’s installment explores the role of Samwise Gamgee, one of the celebrated heroes of The Lord of the Rings.
Sam Gamgee is, without a doubt, one of J.R.R. Tolkien’s most beloved characters. The simple hobbit’s journey from wide-eyed gardener with an inexplicable fascination with Elves to a hero hardened—but not crushed—by toil and suffering moves readers to both fondness and awe. Few can forget that stirring moment when Sam, bowed by exhaustion, thirst, and despair, lifts the incapacitated Frodo to his shoulders and hikes the winding road up Mount Doom. Tolkien himself, in a parenthetical remark, called Samwise the “chief hero” of The Lord of the Rings (Letters 161). In another place, Tolkien wrote that Sam was, of the five major hobbit-characters, the most representative of his race despite the education he received from Bilbo; this, Tolkien admitted, made him “lovable and laughable” if also infuriating and irritating (Letters 329).
Despite the monumental role Samwise Gamgee was to play in the narrative, he does not appear in the story right away. Vestiges of his fascination with the Elves and his surprising capacity for the appreciation of beauty can perhaps be found in Frodo Took, an early character who was to accompany Bingo (later Frodo Baggins) on his journey. Christopher Tolkien notes that this Frodo Took “is seen as a less limited and more aware being than Odo [a sort of early incarnation of Pippin], more susceptible to the beauty and otherness of the Elves” (The Return of the Shadow, hereafter RS, 70). Often, whole scenes and chapters in the early stages of the book come close to the final product in the published Lord of the Rings despite the fact that Sam (and Aragorn!) are not yet present. Clearly, though the hobbit’s presence alters the entire course of the narrative, his introduction affected the early chapters of the book very little.
In the middle of the third draft of “Many Meetings,” Tolkien set the chapter aside in order to get his bearings. A two-page manuscript of notes titled “Queries and Alterations” bears witness to this fact. It is here, in the margins, that Sam Gamgee’s name first appears. It floats alongside a worry that the story was beginning to have “too many hobbits” (RS 221), but at this point is still largely unattached to any specific ideas, as JRRT wrote only that Bingo [Frodo] perhaps meant to go alone, with Sam. Here the first seeds both of Frodo’s trust in Sam and of Sam’s devotion to Frodo (both complex ideas that we’ll discuss more later) appear, though little enough is done about them at this stage. In fact, Tolkien did nothing with the name “Sam Gamgee” until some time later, when he returned to the beginning and began to rewrite the early chapters.
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So it is that Sam Gamgee makes his first true appearance in a chapter called “Ancient History,” which would later become “Shadows of the Past.” This chapter was inserted into the manuscript after a re-writing of “A Long-Expected Party,” in order to justify the somewhat darker turn the story was taking. Here Sam is a part-time gardener for the Baggins who is first met having a conversation with Ted Sandyman in the Green Dragon (RS 254). Even in these early chapters, Sam’s role is surprisingly complete. He is very much the Sam Gamgee of the first chapters of The Lord of the Rings, and even “the surprising of Sam outside the window, and Gandalf’s decision that he should be Bingo’s companion” is nearly in its final form—Christopher writes that it “was reached almost at a stroke and never changed” (RS 267).
It seems evident to me, upon perusing the old drafts, that the name “Sam Gamgee” birthed in Tolkien’s mind a rather complete, complex character. At one point, Tolkien made a note suggesting that Odo’s name simply be replaced with Sam’s, but the substitution was not so simple: the characters just didn’t fit (RS 273). For some time after, both Sam and Odo were hobbits accompanying Bingo, so that instead of evolving from a preexisting character, Samwise Gamgee developed his own personality and distinct function. Christopher comments that “Sam was too particularly conceived from the outset to be at all suitable to take up Odo’s nonchalance” (RS 323). He was distinct.
And what was that personality? Tolkien, writing to a reader in 1963, described Sam as having “a mental myopia which is proud of itself, a smugness […] and cocksureness, and a readiness to measure and sum up all things from a limited experience, largely enshrined in sententious traditional ‘wisdom'” (Letters 329). Sam, Tolkien said more than once, was rustic and content with a simple, hearty life. His name, derived from an Old English compound we’d translate as “half-wise,” was another reflection of that. I’d hazard a guess that we all know at least one person like Sam: a little conceited, stubborn as a mule, down-to-earth, and set in his ways, full of witty aphorisms that don’t so much help the situation as make him feel that he has a grasp on it.
Sam is, I think, gradually saved (for himself and for the reader) from unbearable small-mindedness by his genuine curiosity and reverence for things that he has no actual reference point for. Don’t get me wrong: he still tends to measure things by the lessons impressed upon him in the Shire (hence the recurring “my old Gaffer used to say” variations), but he is also capable of approaching them with a wide-eyed wonder that, over time, helps to soften his “cocksureness.”
In fact, the greatest changes in Sam’s character come not through the individual drafts or stages, but in the actual progress of the narrative itself. Small changes come and go in the drafts (in one brief episode, for example, Sam stabs a Black Rider in the back as he and Frodo flee the Cracks of Doom [Sauron Defeated, hereafter SD, 5]), but, as Christopher Tolkien pointed out, JRRT clearly had a clear vision of what and who he wanted Samwise Gamgee to be.
So, let’s take a look at Sam’s development within the narrative. The first thing to note is that the treatment Sam receives by the other major characters is decidedly classist. Sam is a working class servant, and for the most part, he’s treated like it. Everyone, even Frodo and except for perhaps Gandalf, seems surprised when Sam shows an interest in old stories or shares some bit of lore that he learned from Mr. Bilbo. Faramir tells Sam that he’s a “pert servant” (LotR 682). Frodo is consistently referred to as Sam’s master by the narrator and other characters, despite the fact that Sam rarely does so himself, and only when he is speaking about Frodo to someone of a technically higher rank, like Glorfindel, Boromir, etc. Frodo himself often takes Sam’s blind devotion for granted, as a matter of fact, rather than the unusual gift it is.
And in fact, this is one of the primary areas of growth for Sam. While he follows Frodo loyally, he does not, in the beginning, treat him with the same deference and love we see later in the tale. In fact, if my ebook search feature and my own taxed memory are correct, Sam never directly addresses Frodo as “master” until Book 4. Before that, he uses the terms “sir” and “Mr. Frodo” indiscriminately, and as noted above, only refers to Frodo as “my master” on a select few occasions (more on this later). But along with the advent of Book 4, we’re inundated with the title “master.”
What changes? The answer is two-parted. First, the first chapter of Book 4 is “The Taming of Sméagol.” The second word of that chapter is “master,” coming from Sam and directed at Frodo. In other words, Sam doesn’t start calling Frodo “master” directly until they have left the rest of the Fellowship behind and Gollum comes on the scene—at which point the hobbit’s devotion becomes all-encompassing. Sam, seeing Gollum’s pandering obeisance, transforms himself into a sort of devotary, rivaling the miserable creature in prostrating himself before his “master.” We can see a shadow of this decidedly unfriendly competition in Sam’s mocking of Gollum’s speech patterns from time to time (see “Of Herbs and Stewed Rabbit”), not to mention his constant (if well-merited) mistrust of his fellow servant. Of course, Sam’s devotion is not unworthy because it began with less-than-admirable intentions. The important thing is that perhaps Sam pretended long enough that what he pretended became fact: and so he went the extra mile and sacrificed his own well-being for Frodo’s even after “winning” the competition.
Half-wise. Sam is not one of the Wise like Gandalf or Galadriel, but he does have flashes of clarity that even he doesn’t fully understand. He sees beyond face-value to a deeper level and is able to offer the most fitting description of Galadriel that Tolkien ever gives us. He sees in Faramir a high quality, some sort of spiritual light that, though he cannot name it, reminds him of wizards—spiritual messengers. He understands that Lothlórien and the Elves who dwell there have made each other, that they’re in a mutual, equal partnership. He’s the one who sees the star gleaming above the murk of Mordor and takes hope in the good that he cannot grasp.
Likewise, he recognizes in Frodo a power that is beyond him. This idea forms the core of our answer’s second part. Sam begins calling Frodo “master” because he is impelled to do so by the power of the Ring. The few times that Sam refers to Frodo as “my master” before Book 4, the influence of the Ring is a direct factor. The first two times occur just after Weathertop, as Frodo fights the Morgul blade traveling towards his heart. Later Sam uses the phrase when telling Galadriel he wishes she would take the Ring, and again when he praises Faramir for apparently understanding the pressure his master is under.
The text is sure to emphasize this idea after Book 4, too. Each time Sam refers to Frodo as “master” during a situation in which the Ring’s influence is a factor, the term is capitalized. More specifically, Sam begins calling Frodo “Master” (rather than “master”) when he returns the Ring to Frodo in Minas Morgul. That is, Sam, as a former Ring bearer, must bow to the one who holds it now. The Ring and its power has become part of the dynamic of their relationship. Take Gollum as a comparison: he calls Frodo “master” from the beginning of “The Taming of Sméagol” until Frodo’s betrayal of his confidence at the Forbidden Pool. Then, as if to emphasize that his devotion to Frodo is compelled by the Ring and nothing else, he begins calling the hobbit “Master.”
The Ring thus plays an important role in Sam’s service, just like it does that of Gollum, but I would insist that unlike Gollum’s situation, the Ring is not the most important factor in Sam’s devotion. The important difference is that Sam chooses to serve Frodo, whereas Gollum is forced into servitude, slavery even, by the power of the Ring (a heavy topic for another day). It’s easy, good even, to feel uncomfortable with the way Sam is treated as a servant. Like I said above, Middle-earth is driven by class distinctions that are never quite erased even though Sam eventually receives a place of honor in the Shire; he begins life as a servant because he isn’t landed or moneyed. We have to acknowledge that at first he has little choice in occupation or social standing.
Having acknowledged them, then, let’s set aside class discussions for a moment to look at Sam’s story in a different light. We should pay attention to the fact that the “chief hero” of the greatest fantasy epic ever written is a servant, that he eventually chooses to be of service even as, stripped down to essentials, the hobbits have become equals. Despite this, Sam chooses to serve Frodo. Why?
I think Sam’s story contains an important lesson about doing life with other people. Let’s face it: Frodo can be difficult and irritating at times. He needs constant care; Sam looses sleep, food, and water in his vigilance. Sam runs himself ragged for Frodo’s good and consistently sacrifices his own wishes for Frodo’s sake. But what began as an ill-tempered competition eventually births in Sam something beautiful: love. At some point, he stops being smug about his devotion, stops bickering with Gollum over it. He chooses Frodo’s good every time without thought. He instinctively puts Frodo first—in fact it doesn’t occur to him to do otherwise. For Sam, service becomes a joy.
Now, the situation is obviously an exaggerated extreme. Ideally, Frodo would be reciprocating service with service; they would each seek to put the other first. What the story is trying to emphasize, though, is that Sam is sacrificing for someone who can’t return the favor, as it were. Sam is giving without asking whether or not he’s going to get something from Frodo. He just does it. And that’s love. It would have been an important idea for Tolkien, whose Catholic sensibilities reverenced a Christ who announced that he came to serve the very least, the most destitute, and who gave without thought of personal gain.1
This is an important lesson for us even now. Sam has no particular reason to love Frodo. Frodo Baggins is his employer. But service changes a person. Generosity transforms. And even though Sam begins from bad or at least less-than-desirable impulses, he eventually comes to the point at which his service is a gift that he gives out of love. As C.S. Lewis once wrote:
“What is the good of pretending to be what you are not? Well, even on the human level, you know, there are two kinds of pretending. There is the bad kind, where the pretence is there instead of the real thing; as when a man pretends he is going to help you instead of really helping you. But there is also a good kind, where the pretence leads up to the real thing.”
This is something that service, even and especially service to people we don’t know or don’t like, does particularly well. If you choose to serve and do so faithfully, service will become the midwife of love—and we could use a lot more of that in this world.
Sam’s story is thus an important one because it illustrates for us with startling clarity that love born of service and service born of love can save the world. It is Sam’s sacrifice and love, more than anything else, that makes the defeat of the darkness possible. And in a world being harried by darkness, fear, and hate, his life teaches a lesson we can’t afford to be slow in learning.
Megan N. Fontenot is a Tolkien scholar and fan who is thankful for the light and hope that can be found in Middle-earth, as well as the encouragement of the lessons the characters embody. Catch her on Twitter @MeganNFontenot1 and feel free to request a favorite character while you’re there!
[1]I want to emphasize that there are limits to this idea. No one, for example, should be tolerating an abusive relationship in which one partner is consistently expected or compelled to do all the giving. It is just as healthy, humbling, and good to learn how to be served as it is to serve.
I have always loved how Tolkien showed the most important, bravest people are often the least likely, least confident. How inspiring and more true to life.
I think quite a bit of the Frodo/Sam dynamic traces back the the War, and the officer/batman dynamic there.
At the top of the article, is that an illustration of the chapter “Of Herbs and Spit-Roasted Rabbit”?
;-)
Oh, wonderful! Very well done!
Sam has always been my favorite of all hobbits. Although I often thought he should do more to stand up to the bourgeoisie oppressors of the proletariat masses.
Sam is a working class servant, and for the most part, he’s treated like it.
Well… he is and he isn’t.
Sam is a gardener. He isn’t a house-servant – he doesn’t live in, and he doesn’t do work in Bag End. He’s there to look after the garden, and that’s it. He’s an outside contractor, with a specific job. Frodo and Bilbo do their own cooking and their own washing up and, presumably, their own cleaning. Very unusual for people in Tolkien’s time if they had any means – and Frodo, remember, is definitely well off.
You’re right that almost all the major characters treat him as a servant and look down on him – but that “almost all” only covers the non-hobbit characters. Of course Faramir thinks he’s a servant, because Faramir is the son of the mighty Steward of Gondor, and everyone he’s ever met exists in a feudal, servile or military relationship with him and with his father. But I don’t think that Pippin and Merry treat Sam the same way. They make fun of him because he’s a bit dopey from time to time and keeps on coming out with stuff his Gaffer told him, but I don’t think they actually look down on him in the same way that the Men (and even the Elves) do.
In fact, we never actually see or hear of a hobbit with actual servants, or even actual employees. Not even the aristocratic heirs, Pippin Took and Merry Brandybuck, the sons of the two most powerful hobbits in the Shire. We see hobbits working for humans – the pot-boy at the Prancing Pony, for example – but never for other hobbits. And we see what we might call temps being hired – Bilbo didn’t cater the whole Birthday Party by himself, and I’m sure that farmers will hire in labourers to help get the harvest in. But the idea of a permanent employer-employee relationship, of the kind that most of us live in, doesn’t seem to exist in the Shire.
The exception is the hobbit who calls himself “Boss”, and employs all those shirriffs – the degraded and unhobbitlike Lotho.
I would speculate this is deliberate.
Hobbits are uniquely immune to the lure of the Ring for the same reason that Frodo does his own washing-up; they have no desire for domination, and that’s what the Ring offers its victims. There are rich hobbits and poor hobbits, but there are no hobbits with power over others; the Shire has a minimal government because governments exist, fundamentally, to restrain individuals’ lusts for power, and to deal with external threats and emergencies, and without either of those there’s not much to do except round up stray livestock and preside over feasts.
I am hugely impressed with the analysis of when and why Sam starts using the word “master”, by the way – and completely convinced by it. Nice one.
The intricacies of Tolkien’s work never ceases to amaze
Interesting analysis, with food for thought. I think you exaggerate Sam’s lack of insight and love – and ‘master-ing’ prior to the breaking of the fellowship, though. See his reaction to Frodo’s memory of Farmer Maggot beating him, or what we’re told of him in Elrond’s house prior to Frodo’s waking. Not to mention his first scene with the awakened Frodo, and how he reads Frodo correctly at the end of Fellowship.
And if you just do a search on master, there’re a lot of people who get the term applied. Bible addresses Gaffer as Master, frex, and there’s always old Tom Bombadil. It’s half simple politeness, manners, apparently, especially among hobbit.s I’m recalling a story I recently read set ijust prior to WWII in England where the social stuff was all wrong because everyone was using first names. (Also no help even when the apparent class of the person would have called for servants, if only dailies.) Some of it is, I think, not so much a way of showing subservience, but standard manners for Tolkien.
@6, that’s excellent observation on hobbit society and why the Ring is safest with them.
And if you just do a search on master, there’re a lot of people who get the term applied. Bible addresses Gaffer as Master, frex, and there’s always old Tom Bombadil.
“Bilbo was very polite to him, calling him “Master Hamfast” and consulting him constantly upon the growing of vegetables”. Ch. 1, “A Long-Expected Party”.
But that’s “Master Hamfast”, not “master” on its own. Very different.
And you notice that the Gaffer reciprocates, more or less, and refers to him as “Mr Bilbo”.
On the difference between “Master X” and “Mr. X” – the Gaffer uses both, talking about Mr Bilbo and his father Mr Drogo, but his grandfather Master Gorbadoc. Gorbadoc is the Master of Buckland, and so actually deserves the title. Master Everard Took, from context, though, is called that because he’s young, probably only in his tweens. Farmer Maggot, similarly, uses “Master Pippin” and then corrects himself when he remembers that Pippin’s a grown adult now rather than a mushroom-stealing child, and calls him “Mr Peregrine”.
So “Master” is kind of an ambiguous title, both more and less respectful than “Mr” depending on context. (Pippin, Merry and Frodo address each other as “Master Merry” etc, but that’s clearly ironic-formal, the same way you might address a friend as “Actually, I think it’s your turn to get the drinks in, Mr Smith”.) Bilbo calling the Gaffer “Master Hamfast” is noblesse oblige – he’s actually being more respectful to the Gaffer than he would be to another hobbit, to make up for the fact that he used to be the Gaffer’s employer and is still richer and more high-status than the Gaffer is, which would otherwise cause awkwardness.
The only time that I could find in “Fellowship” where anyone addresses anyone else as “Master” on its own and capitalised is Frodo, talking to Tom Bombadil.
Pippin isn’t of age yet: 29, vs. coming of age of 33. Still, he’s close, and not a small boy.
Pippin also has one moment of treating Sam like a servant, early on their hike:
> ‘What’s beautiful about it?’ said Pippin, peering over the edge of his blanket with one eye. ‘Sam! Get breakfast ready for half-past nine! Have you got the bath-water hot?’
> Sam jumped up, looking rather bleary. ‘No, sir, I haven’t, sir!’ he said.
But that’s the only instance. Even before that, Frodo suspects Sam has taken more than his share of supplies to carry and that Frodo will need to look into that. Straight out of Bag End we have a pattern of Sam sacrificing himself for Frodo, and Frodo being aware and ostensibly not being entirely okay with that.
In Crickhollow, when debating bath order, “oldest or quickest”, Frodo says Pippin would be last either way — rather than making a servant go last. As it happens, Merry, crown prince of Buckland, has prepared baths for all three travelers.
I find the mention of part-time gardener in the post interesting, as I haven’t read that part of HoME. In the published text it’s not clear if Sam is a full-time gardener of Bag End, or part of a gardening service that has Bag End as one of its clients. It’s not clear that Bag End’s gardens are big enough to need a full-time tender.
OTOH part of the cover story for Frodo going away is that Sam will be his servant, so that relationship is at least plausible:
> He took his own tea with Pippin and Sam Gamgee in the kitchen. It had been officially announced that Sam was coming to Buckland ‘to do for Mr. Frodo and look after his bit of garden’; an arrangement that was approved by the Gaffer, though it did not console him for the prospect of having Lobelia as a neighbour.
(That text also provides evidence that the Gaffer is *not* a tenant of the Baggins — he’s unhappy about Lobelia as a neighbor, not about her as a landlord.)
Pippin also has one moment of treating Sam like a servant, early on their hike
Good catch. Does this imply that Pippin is used to having servants at home?
Pippin isn’t seriously giving Sam orders in this speech, though; they’re sleeping in a wood at the time. No baths around.
That text also provides evidence that the Gaffer is *not* a tenant of the Baggins — he’s unhappy about Lobelia as a neighbor, not about her as a landlord.
Is anyone in the Shire a tenant, for that matter? The word’s never used, nor is “rent”, and the only mentions of landlords are in the other (British) sense of “owns the pub” rather than “owns and rents out property”.
In the published text it’s not clear if Sam is a full-time gardener of Bag End, or part of a gardening service that has Bag End as one of its clients. It’s not clear that Bag End’s gardens are big enough to need a full-time tender.
Bag End presumably has a vegetable garden (for the roots that the Gaffer advises on), as well as a lawn at the front (for Sam to pretend to clip while eavesdropping) and flower beds (around the edge of the lawn). There might well be quite a lot of work there. As for what Sam does the rest of the time: I don’t think we know. Helps the Gaffer, most likely – he presumably has his own vegetable garden as well. Helps his uncle over at the rope-walk, perhaps – he’s a bit of an expert on rope.
Thanks for the essay – I love the analysis of the use of ‘master’ (and ajay gives a very good companion analysis of why the Ring is less tempting for Hobbits) although like others I think some of the ‘servant’ aspect is overstated – Sam was a gardner and a service worker but I never took him for a literal servant. I don’t think Frodo and Sam’s relationship was quite so one sided or without affection in the beginning, either. Thinking of the group dynamic of friends I’ve had, I think among Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin, Sam was still a friend although perhaps one of the ones that was still seen as a little more inexperienced/less worldly.
@2 wiredog– yes, indeed, the Sam/Frodo dynamic reminds me of the Bunter/Wimsey relationship in the Dorothy Sayers mysteries, and Bunter *was* officer Wimsey’s batman in the Great War. Sam and Bunter are not similar characters, but they are both deeply, lovingly devoted, to the point of sacrificing their own interest, and they both save their masters’ lives.
“Pippin isn’t seriously giving Sam orders in this speech, though; they’re sleeping in a wood at the time. No baths around.”
I’d always taken it as a half-awake reversion to habit. OTOH, re-reading, it could be Pippin joking with Sam. OTOH, the way Sam responds “No sir, I haven’t sir” suggests there’s something there.
No mention of tenants or rent in the Shire, but the Bracegirdles “owned many plantations” (Hunt for the Ring)
A lot of fans assume Bilbo/Frodo are landed gentry, by analogy with English society, but the only thing Tolkien ever mentions is simply “money”.
@15 & others remarking on Pippin in the early scene of camping, don’t forget that Frodo’s reaction to that is to roll Pippin out of bed and then wanders off. When he returns Pippin demands water from him. In this larger context the whole Pippin demands to Sam looks like Pippin is just like that and will make demands of anyone around.
Bilbo addresses Elrond as Master Elrond at least once. FWIW. Master, not mister. Maybe a style thing – I just can’t imagine Elves being ‘mistered’
The leading illustration gets Sam wrong. He should be in a woodsman’s hunker. Also known as sitting on your hams. It would look the same, save that Sam’s feet would be flat on the ground.
The woodsman’s hunker is practiced by outdoor people around the world. There isn’t always a convenient log in the bush. There is a lot of ground level work. Make and maintain fire, make and set traps, examine spoor, skin game, cook food, make and maintain gear, on and on.
Amerindians used it. European settlers used it. Frontiersmen used it. I’ve seen immigrants from Viet Nam use it. I’ve seen native Hawaiians use it. I’ve seen pictures of Nepalese blacksmiths using it—with forge and anvil at ground level.
Sam would have used it, clipping grass or roasting rabbit.
Bilbo addresses Elrond as Master Elrond at least once. FWIW. Master, not mister. Maybe a style thing – I just can’t imagine Elves being ‘mistered’
Hmm, interesting. And here in fact is an entire article on that!
https://scholar.valpo.edu/journaloftolkienresearch/vol7/iss1/9/
Points out that Elrond is “Master Elrond” to everyone, not just Bilbo – but other leaders of Elves are “Lord” and “Lady”. Elrond is, however, entitled to “Master” – he’s described as the Master of the Last Homely House (Rivendell) just as Merry’s father is Master of Buckland, and was also a lore-master.
But, still, Elrond is addressed respectfully as “Master Elrond” – not as just “Master”.
I’d always taken it as a half-awake reversion to habit. OTOH, re-reading, it could be Pippin joking with Sam. OTOH, the way Sam responds “No sir, I haven’t sir” suggests there’s something there.
looks like Pippin is just like that and will make demands of anyone around.
These both make sense to me. I think Pippin is just basically (at least at this stage of the story) a fairly lazy and thoughtless person, probably a bit spoiled, who tries it on with anyone around, and Sam is instinctively a bit deferential towards him (and indeed towards Merry).
Sam’s taking more load than he should off Frodo, meanwhile, as Megan noticed, for various reasons – partly because Frodo’s his employer, partly because he feels protective towards him and worries that he won’t be able to look after himself (as is indeed the case, much later in the story), and partly because the terrifying Gandalf has told him to.
Pippin is joking. Sam is half asleep and doesn’t get that it’s a joke.
@21: Exactly how I’ve always understood it. And later—when he asks Frodo for water—it is merely that Frodo had “wandered off” and Pippin assumed he must be looking for the water they would need to boil eggs, make tea, and do the washing up.
Is it me, or did your spell checker have a field day with this article? I’m seeing Odo instead of Frodo and Bingo instead of Bilbo.
Starts in the 3rd paragraph and continues after that.
Bad spell-checker!
No, she’s referring to names Tolkien used in earlier drafts.
“an early character who was to accompany Bingo (later Frodo Baggins)”
Apropos of nothing, but I can’t tell you how enjoyable it is to read a thread on an article of any sort in which people offer different perspectives on a topic without descending into bickering.
The only thing I can offer to this otherwise excellent conversation is that I think the age differences between the hobbits played something of a role in their interactions. Frodo is 50 when he sets out. Sam, I believe, is about 12 years younger. Merry and Pippin are younger still–Pippin is in his late twenties, or his “tweens,” which I think explains some of his behavior, both toward Sam and generally, as hobbits in their tweens were said to be at about the maturity stage of human (as in Man) teenagers. My take on Farmer Maggot’s addressing him as “Mr. Peregrine” was that there was perhaps a small note of sarcasm there.
I think the age differences between the hobbits played something of a role in their interactions. Frodo is 50 when he sets out. Sam, I believe, is about 12 years younger. Merry and Pippin are younger still–Pippin is in his late twenties, or his “tweens,”
Hm. This is a good point – quite an age gap, even for long-lived hobbits. This timeline http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Timeline/Third_Age has Frodo born in SR 1368, Sam in 1380, Merry in 1382, and Pippin in 1390. Bilbo’s birthday party is 1401 and Frodo sets out for Rivendell in 1418 (I keep forgetting that 17-year gap).
So when Bilbo leaves the Shire, Pippin is only eleven – he’ll barely remember him.
Sam’s best line: “But I can carry *you*!”
Excellent essay.
A copyedit, because I compulsively copyedit everything I read:
I believe Ms. Fontenot left in two phrases about Sam’s description, and suspect she meant to leave in “most fitting” and remove “a beautiful”. (I believe that because “fitting” is the sort of not-quite-archaic word that would be reminiscent of Tolkien.)
@28 – Fixed, thanks!
My cousin Nathan the hydrogeologist asked me to post this for him:
Sam’s “education” begins when Bilbo taught him “his letters” and “old lore”. This already raise him above all hobbits except Frodo and Bilbo. It is Sam’s “deep down Hobbit sense” that keeps him grounded, and able to resist the lure of the ring unlike anyone else in history, except perhaps Galadriel and Gandalf, who had uncounted years, power, and wisdom unmeasurable compared to Sam.
I think it is the night they spend with the Elves in the Woody End at the beginning of the story that has the first effect of changing Sam (not mentioned in the narrative you sent me). He knows there is something deep and beyond his understanding to the history of Middle Earth in which the Elves fit, though he can’t in his simple mind comprehend it. He reduces it to “if I could grow apples like that, I would call myself a gardener), because he has no other words in his vocabulary to express something that is so far beyond his experience. Again when he says about the Elves “they seem above our likes and dislikes” he comprehends that this is a matter that is far beyond his understanding, as it is with all mortals. But Sam appreciates it more than most, except perhaps the Numenoreans. It remained one of the “chief moments of his life”.
His suspicion of Gollum from the beginning and his last conversation with Faramir showed his wisdom in judging character that is far beyond his simple roots. His endurance of torture and toil far beyond that of any mortal on the last trek to Mount Doom speaks to what Gandalf always said about Hobbits “soft as butter they can seem, but tougher than old tree roots at other times”. That for me is one of the most wonderful things about this story. Sam defeats Shelob, daughter of Ungoliant (who had power even over Morgoth), when the most doughty worrier of old or Orc ensnared couldn’t defeat her. And how Sting (found in a trolls lair in “The Hobbit”) wove its way through the story to this point is beyond brilliant. Just like the knife Merry used to stab the Lord of the Nazgul.
But when he saw the star shine through the cloud wrack of Mordor (the stars of Elbereth) and it “smote his heart” and he realized that there is a beauty and power more higher and untouchable than the shadow (which was a passing thing as Sam realized) that the education of Sam became complete. Also, he alone understood that the vial of Galadriel, capturing the light of Earendil’s star—Earendil father of Elrond, defeater of Morgoth, and forefather of the Numenoreans—placed them in a continuing tale that began in the Eldar Days.
Sam is the best. And Galadriel saw in him his true nature and rewarded him well.
“This already raise him above all hobbits except Frodo and Bilbo.”
Uh, no? Sure, he got an unusual education in some ways, but “above all hobbits” is an extraordinary claim. Bilbo wasn’t the only hobbit interest in books and lore, though we can assume he was the foremost living elf-scholar. Merry is obviously very well educated in his own right, with an active intellectual curiosity that rivals Bilbo.
“above all hobbits” is an extraordinary claim
Yes, indeed it is but there are several factors that uphold the claim that Sam is an extraordinary hobbit.
First of all Sam’s worth was recognized by his fellow hobbits as he was voted mayor of the Shire for seven terms. In this regard he matches Merry and Pippin who also held public office.
Second, Sam is Bilbo and Frodo’s heir, he carries on their legacy and establishes his own family at Bags End and they trust him to finish the Red Book which he passes on to his own descendants.
Third and most important, Sam’s adventure is completed when at the end of his long and fruitful life he is honored to go beyond the Sea, because he was a Ring-bearer. Only 2 other hobbits were allowed to do that, Bilbo and Frod.
Sam’s adventure is indeed unique since he is able to return home, marry the girl of his dreams, have a lovely family and many heirs that he could tell the true tale of how he saw an Oliphaunt with his own eyes…
A topic for discussion, noted while reading Fellowship to a newbie last night:
During the episode with Old Man Willow, Frodo is drowsy and tossed in the river; Merry and Pippin get et by a tree, but Sam remains awake, says “there’s something unnatural about this” and goes to the rescue. Later, in Tom Bombadil’s house Frodo, Merry, and Pippin have prophetic and/or scary dreams; Sam sleeps soundly.
What does this suggest about Sam?
@33:
Sam is a gardener, so one would expect him to have more experience paying attention to small things in the environment than would Pippi, Merry, or Frodo, as they are not outdoor workers. He noticed something the others could not because they lacked knowledge.
In a lot of ways, Pippin and Merry strike me as something like college freshmen, from a family with money, who have never had to worry about anything, and were able to indulge in a lot of low-grade misbehavior without any major consequences (we never see the Shire as a working society, only as a cartoon of one, so we don’t know about the prevalence of the sort of poverty that was and is endemic in agricultural economies. As far as we can tell, the Shire is a post-scarcity economy. In reality, of course, working in the satanic mills opened while Frodo et al were off saving the world was better than the life as a seasonal farm laborer, which is why people moved into cities and took up factory work).
I think Frodo knows all along that Sam is not his inferior except in wealth. Pippin and Merry, who led more sheltered lives in many ways than Frodo, took time to figure it out. The non-Hobbits never did, the elves because they didn’t care about relative status among Hobbits, and most of the humans because they were all in highly stratified societies and literally couldn’t.
Grouping Pippin and Merry together is a mistake. Merry doesn’t have “misbehavior” and they’re pretty different. Pippin was inattentive and feckless, and has the singular moment of any hobbit treating Sam like a servant (possibly as a joke, but still); Merry reads maps, spouts lore at the slightest provocation, and was the mastermind behind the hobbit ‘conspiracy’.
Perhaps I should have said “Sam seems unaffected by Ol’ Man WIllow” in conjunction with his not having strange dreams iun the house of Bombadil. Is there something about him (working class? double dose of hobbit-sense?) that seems to make him immune to both these influences?
It is Sam’s “deep down Hobbit sense” that keeps him grounded, and able to resist the lure of the ring unlike anyone else in history, except perhaps Galadriel and Gandalf
And Bilbo! Remember that, while Galadriel and Gandalf are able to resist the temptation to pick up the Ring, only Bilbo and Sam are able to put it down having borne it, which is surely more of an effort.
33 is an interesting point. From a narrative point of view, one of the hobbits has to be unaffected by Old Man Willow in order to act as a viewpoint character on what’s happening to the other three!
As for the dreams, as the only one of the four untouched by evil so far – either in the form of the Ring or the Willow – Sam hasn’t had the trauma that triggers nightmares in the other three.
@37
Good observations.
I would note that while Pippin and Merry have nightmares, Frodo does not. He has a dream that appears to be a vision of Gandalf in Orthanc, and a dream of being on a hill trying to climb towards a tower that faces the Sea. I have not seen these as nightmares, more as prophetic dreams. And Sam has neither (assuming logs do not foresee things)
@Dr. Thanatos:
Just for complete accuracy, I’ll mention that Frodo dreams not only of climbing what we would guess is one of the Tower Hills, but even of the “grey rain-curtain” of his arrival on the shores of the Uttermost West.
@srEDIT
Yes, on the second night. I don’t believe that we are told anything about other people dreaming or not on the second night at Casa de Bombadil.
@36. The old Man Willow resistance I have long linked to Galadriel’s comment when she is giving him his gift “gardener and lover of trees”. Just how is difficult to articulate, but I do.
41: does this make Sam the most English of the four hobbits?
It seems (based on admittedly not very much) that the English sense of England is much more tied up with trees than is true for other nations. The Scots have their mountains* and the Welsh their valleys. The Irish love the green of Ireland, but it’s fields and rolling hills, not woods. American songs about America seem to be much more about endless plains (and, occasionally, mountains as well). La France Profonde is farmland and little villages. German fairy tales have forests, but they’re definitely not friendly places; they’re where the witches and so on live.
But England is all about trees; “Heart of Oak”, Robin Wood and his yew longbow, and so forth. Hence, of course, the Ents.
*”This is more to my liking. Ever my heart rises as we grow close to the mountains. There is good rock here. This country has tough bones. Give me a year and a hundred of my kin and I would make this a place that armies would break upon like water.” Gimli son of Gloin, being Scottish.