SOURCE: Nelson, Charles W. “The Sins of Middle-earth: Tolkien's Use of Medieval Allegory.” In J. R. R. Tolkien and His Literary Resonances: Views of Middle-earth, edited by George Clark and Daniel Timmons, pp. 83-94. Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 2000.

[In the following essay, Nelson examines the ways in which the characters in The Lord of the Rings personify various sins and virtues in the traditions of medieval allegory.]

During the Council of Elrond, the elven lord declares that “nothing is evil in the beginning. Even Sauron was not so” (The Fellowship of the Ring [FR] 350). This statement reflects Tolkien's version of creation in which Erú intended that everything should be good. Yet even early in The Hobbit, evil obviously exists in Middle-earth—and not only in Dol Guldur—as first the trolls and then the goblins demonstrate their wickedness all too clearly. After the almost fatal adventure on Caradhras in FR, Aragorn remarks that “there are many evil and unfriendly things in the world … that are not in league with Sauron, but with purposes of their own” (378). Among these are Shelob, the Balrog, and the “nameless things” gnawing at the roots of the world that Gandalf observes during his pursuit of the Balrog under Moria (The Two Towers [TT] 128). All these instances remind us of the extent to which evil has permeated Middle-earth.

Another kind of evil in Tolkien's world poses an even greater threat to the good characters: the wickedness within members of the various races of Middle-earth. Sméagol, Boromir, Saruman, and Denethor are all examples. None of them were villainous at first, but their moral failures endangered the Fellowship and its mission. Indeed, almost every character in the story could turn to evil. In a series of related scenes, every major figure is tempted by the power of the Ring and resists or fails. Gandalf explains that the power in the Ring works on the major flaw of all characters and by this means attempts to turn them to evil (FR 91).

Thus in the adventures of his main characters, Tolkien shows the origins of evil through the faults of individuals; moreover his work as a whole may embody a moral philosophy. Tolkien suggests this aim in his letter to Milton Waldman:

Myth and fairy-story must, as all art, reflect and contain in solution elements of moral and religious truth (or error), but not explicit, not in the known form of the primary ‘real’ world.

(The Letters of J. R. R. Tolkien 144)

In one sense, then, The Lord of the Rings [LR] may be a morality tale in which Tolkien's entertaining adventures teach serious moral lessons. He has declared this purpose of his writing:

[T]he encouragement of good morals in this real world by the ancient device of exemplifying them in unfamiliar embodiments that may tend to bring them home.

(Letters 194)

But how does Tolkien go about this? Ever since the publication of LR there has been much discussion of his use of multiple races and peoples in his sub-creation of Middle-earth. Many critics such as Paul Kocher in Master of Middle-earth, Randel Helms in Tolkien's World, Robert Reilly in “Tolkien and the Fairy Story,” and Richard Purtill in J. R. R. Tolkien: Myth, Morality and Religion have examined these characters in detail and theorized about their roles in the trilogy. Purtill even begins to examine the traditional Seven Deadly Sins as exhibited by the peoples of Tolkien's world, but soon leaves off (76). Given his understanding of the Middle Ages, it would seem plausible that Tolkien may have used his various peoples in a similar way to medieval writers—as the personified figures of the principle vices in the Christian code known as the Seven Deadly Sins: Greed, Pride, Envy, Sloth, Gluttony, Lechery, and Anger. With her emphasis on repentance and goodness, the medieval Church naturally provided a parallel list of the Saintly Virtues, which were the remedies for these sins: Generosity, Humility, Meekness, Zeal, Abstinence, Chastity, and Patience. These lists are of ancient origin and appear first in the writings of the desert monks and anchorites early in the Christian era; these traits were referred to as the faults that most disturb the monastic life (Bloomfield 23).

These figures of sin were most popular and best known during the Middle Ages, when they were used more than any other allegorical depiction to graphically portray the effects of these most ancient of vices (Robertson 118). Chaucer's the “Parson's Tale” is just one example of a detailed and graphic treatise on these sins and their attendant vices. Well into the twentieth century, the official catechism of the Catholic Church (in which faith Tolkien was raised and lived) still used these traditional figures showing the results of sin to impress their seriousness on the young (Baltimore 48). What could be more natural than for Tolkien to adapt this venerable device to his own purposes as part of the moral teaching that he acknowledges his work has? He clearly uses this device and points his readers in the right direction through his insistence on the greed displayed by the dwarves and the way in which it shaped their characters. From this starting point, the identification of his races and their characteristic sins clearly show themselves.

Here we will consider the mortal Men and the shapes of the old men assumed by the Maiar who came to Middle-earth in the guise of wizards as one race, and the Orcs, Hobbits, Ents, and Elves as the others. Their characteristic sins as Tolkien describes them are: Dwarves-Greed, Men-Pride, Elves-Envy, Ents-Sloth, Hobbits-Gluttony, Wormtongue-Lechery, and Orcs-Anger. Among the medieval writers who describe and depict the Seven Deadly Sins, William Langland in his Piers the Plowman (ca. 1385), John Gower in his Confessio Amantis (1390), and Geoffrey Chaucer in his “Pardoner's Tale” (ca. 1395) give the fullest portrayal of each sin individually and include the sub-vices attendant to the major transgressions. These works will be our guides in this examination.

Since Tolkien clearly depicts the dwarves as representations of Greed, it is appropriate to begin with this Deadly Sin, especially because in the framework of Tolkien's own world, possessiveness is one of the worst of transgressions; this is starkly evident in Sauron's overwhelming desire to own all of Middle-earth and its peoples, in Saruman's desperate attempt to control all the lands around Orthanc, and in Gollum's insane attachment to the One Ring. Interestingly, Chaucer's Pardoner repeats this sentiment in the tag line to his sermon, “Radix malorum est cupiditas—Greed is the source of all evil” (Tales 336); Chaucer also depicts a scene of friends murdering another friend for possession of the gold, just as Smeagol murders Deagol for the same reason. Gower, as well, reminds us that in the beginning, Adam and Eve lived happily in the garden; there was no strife for worldly goods because all things were held in common and no one wanted what he did not have. Soon, however, avarice appeared with all the other wrongs associated with it as Adam and Eve argued even about which parts of the garden each owned (Gower 179). And Langland makes the figure representing this sin a gross caricature:

And then came Covetousness; no words can describe him, he looked so hungry and hollow, such a crafty old codger! He had beetling brows and thick, puffy lips, and his eyes were as bleary as a blind old hag's. His baggy cheeks sagged down below his chin, flapping about like a leather wallet, and trembling with old age.

(66)

This portrayal could be compared to the condition of Thrain when Gandalf finds him “witless and wandering” in the dungeons of Dol Goldur (Hobbit 35). It does not take long for this sin to appear in Hobbit; at Bilbo's unexpected party, he perceives through the dwarves' songs their “love of beautiful things made by hand and by cunning … the desire of the hearts of the dwarves” (25). Much later, Thorin will not admit his real mission to the elf king for fear of having to share the treasure of Smaug with someone else. When the company finally gets into the Lonely Mountain, the dwarves' fascination with and delight in the gold and jewels goes on far longer than Bilbo's, whose thoughts naturally turn to the more practical considerations of food and drink.

In LR, we learn that the greed of the dwarves specifically for mithril (whose worth was ten times that of gold and later beyond price since it was so scarce) brought about their own destruction and downfall: “[T]hey delved too greedily and too deep, and disturbed that from which they fled, Durin's Bane [the Balrog]” (FR 413). As mentioned above, Gower also describes the attendant vices that come along with the Seven Deadly Sins. First, with Greed comes Covetousness, which Thorin displays when he talks and dreams of the Arkenstone and his plans for possessing it again. It even leads him to agree to some of Gandalf's demands in order to regain it (Hobbit 262). Ingratitude is the second of the malignancies associated with Greed and, again, Thorin's behavior toward Bilbo clearly shows this in the same incident of the Arkenstone. Forgetting all his promises of service, gratitude, and reward as well as the deeds performed by the hobbit, Thorin sends him away with threats of physical violence. The third and final vice resulting from Greed is robbery, of which all the dwarves, but especially Thorin, are guilty as they are determined to hold off the armies of men and elves rather than part with any of Smaug's treasure—even though Tolkien clearly states that much of it was the rightful property of the elf king and the men of Dale (250). Earlier, Smaug mentions this in his questioning of Bilbo while planting doubts about the arrangement he made with the dwarves. While waiting for Dain to arrive, Thorin schemes to keep even the fourteenth part of the trove, which he promised in exchange for the Arkenstone. Interestingly, though, Thorin eventually realizes the evil of his besetting sin and the harm it has caused. In what is perhaps the most moving moment of the entire story, the dying King under the Mountain asks forgiveness of Bilbo Baggins and clearly admits, “If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world” (273).

Although the order and number of the Deadly Sins has changed a number of times, according to one of the traditional arrangements, Pride is the most ancient of evils and the worst of these offenses. It was, after all, the sin of Lucifer, Son of Morning and the brightest of the angels, who would not be subservient to lesser creatures, and also of Adam and Eve, who would be like gods, knowing both good and evil. Appropriately, then, Tolkien devotes the most time to this wrong and its representatives, mortal men and wizards who appear in the bodies of old men.

Saruman is overcome by pride when he entraps Gandalf at Orthanc, demanding cooperation in his plans to dominate Middle-earth. Saruman's long disquisition on the exercise of power refers to the old order and formal alliance that must be swept away along with sneering asides about the fading races, which Saruman views with contempt (FR 339-40). His argument, in spite of Tolkien's denials (FR 11-12), definitely echoes Hitler's justifications for World War II. Saruman's claim that he is best fitted to wield the power of the Ring and pathetic attempt to set himself up as a secondary Dark Lord, complete with ring, tower, and orcs, particularly disgusts Gandalf. “We must have power,” Saruman insists, “power to order all things as we will, for that good which only the Wise can see.” But Gandalf is certain that there will be no “we” when he hears Saruman's bold declaration: “I am Saruman, the Wise, Saruman Ring-maker, Saruman of Many Colors!” (339).

This same vanity and vainglory are seen in the behavior of Denethor, Steward of Gondor, when he speaks to Gandalf, who has just arrived in the Citadel. After a long rehearsal of his own accomplishments, Denethor dismisses the advice of the wizard and concludes:

Pride would be folly that disdained help and counsel at need; but you deal out such gifts according to your own designs. Yet the Lord of Gondor is not to be made the tool of other men's purposes, however worthy.

(The Return of the King [RK]29)

Even his use of the title betrays him, for as Gandalf reminds him on more than one occasion, he is the Steward of Gondor and therefore answerable to a superior. This lesson, however, is lost on the broken old man, which is made clear in the episode in the Fen Hollen when Denethor again reacts angrily to Gandalf's attempts to remind him of his station:

But I say to thee, Gandalf Mithrandir, I will not be thy tool! I am Steward of Gondor of the House of Anárion. I will not step down to be the dotard chamberlain of an upstart. Even when his claim is proved to me, still he comes but of the line of Isildur. I will not bow to such a one, last of a ragged house long bereft of lordship and dignity.

(RK 153)

Yet, as Steward, it was his prime responsibility to return the throne to its rightful heir. Through his portrayal of Denethor's actions, Tolkien reflects the impulse of medieval writers to descry sin and wrongdoing.

As in his description of Greed, Gower also lists some of the attendants that usually accompany Pride. The worst of these is disobedience of which several examples are evident in Tolkien's story. Boromir, son of Denethor, brazenly disobeys the instructions given to the members of the fellowship never to attempt to handle the Ring and to protect and aid the ring-bearer; at Amon Hen, he attacks Frodo in hopes of gaining the ring for himself:

How it angers me! Fool! Obstinate fool! Running willfully to death and ruining our cause. If any mortals have claim to the Ring, it is the men of Númenor, and not Halflings. It is yours by unhappy chance. It might have been mine. It should be mine. Give it to me!

(FR 518-19)

Saruman is likewise guilty of this wrong since the Valar sent him to aid the peoples of Middle-earth in their struggles against the Dark Lord. In his disobedience, he sought an alliance with Sauron intending to become a second Ringlord. Denethor also disobeys his oath as Steward, assuming to himself powers that he would never have even if he reigned as king, as Gandalf sternly reminds him in the Hallows of Gondor:

Authority is not given to you, Steward of Gondor, to order the hour of your death. … And only heathen kings, under the domination of the Dark Power, did thus, slaying themselves in pride and despair.

(RK 152)

Gower next lists Complaint as an attendant of Pride. Boromir's behavior displays this wrong: he constantly complains of the suffering he and his city have gone through already in defense of the Southern Kingdom. More tellingly, as Faramir reports, Boromir had whined to his father that those who have served as Stewards as long as their family should become Kings. Denethor is not entirely corrupted by his own pride and corrects his son's misapprehension (TT 346).

Presumption also attends on Pride in the Confessio Amantis and in the incidents involving Denethor and Saruman cited above. The most obvious example, however, occurs in the behavior of Grima Wormtongue in the Court of Theoden (TT 143-44). Supposedly the counselor of the King of the Golden Hall, he presumes to speak for the Lord of the Mark, even giving orders to Éomer and then imposing restrictions on the actions of the visitors to the court. Not satisfied with enfeebling Theoden to the point of inactivity, Grima behaves as if he were already on the throne. Gandalf, impatient at bandying words with the sycophant, unleashes his power and leaves Wormtongue groveling on the floor in a serpent-like position while the wizard stands over him, denouncing the traitor's actions.

Boastfulness is the last of the flaws connected to Pride, and again Tolkien gives us several examples of it in the behavior of Boromir, Saruman, and Denethor, all of whom we have already seen commit the greater sin of arrogance. Each of these characters takes credit for and brags of accomplishments that they actually have only helped to achieve. Boromir, for instance, boasts of many victories that were really won as much through the bravery of the men of Minas Tirith and the courage of his brother Faramir as by his efforts. As with the dwarves and Greed, Tolkien has a mortal man demonstrate Pride's opposing virtue: Humility. Aragorn, though the uncrowned King of Gondor and heir to the lines of Isildur and Anárion, offers to accompany the hobbits in his guise of a ranger to serve and protect them. “‘I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn; and if by life or death I can save you, I will’” (FR 232). Even after he has triumphed on the Pelennor Fields and the crown is his, Aragorn will not accept the throne until all things are reordered in Minas Tirith and shuns any pomp and ceremony when entering the city (RK 162-64).

The third of the Deadly Sins is Envy, and its representative race are the Elves. At first glance, this might seem to be a contradiction, for the Elves are the Children of the Stars, and presented as the favored race created by Erú and nurtured by the Valar. But sin can wear a face of beauty, as demonstrated by the sin of Lucifer, Son of Morning, who was the most beautiful of all the angels until he fell into hell and became Satan. The history of the Elves includes several transgressions: the theft of the light of the Two Trees by Fëanor, and the departure of the Noldor from Valinor against the command of the Valar. In the Second Age, there is the deception of Sauron, which tempted the elves to reveal the secrets of ring-making, which led to the troubles of the Third Age. Envy, however, appears in Hobbit when Thranduil, Legolas's father, is envious of the elf lords of old whose treasuries bettered his own (163). He was likewise jealous of the dwarves who held all the riches of Smaug—including some that were rightfully his. In this same vein, we see one of the lesser vices of Envy described by Gower—Detraction or denigration of others. Several times during the action of LR, various elves (including the Lord Celeborn, consort of Galadriel) speak disparagingly of the dwarves or make references to imagined wrongs in the past (FR 445, 462).

It is their immortality, however, that makes the Elves especially liable to Envy. Although they can be wounded or killed as in the great battles of the past of Middle-earth, Elves can live forever, slowly aging, but never growing old, suffering neither sickness nor other weaknesses of the flesh. In a world of constant mutability where everything else ages and dies, such a gift can lead to boredom or stagnation or the desire to dominate the lesser races. As Tolkien explains in a letter to Michael Straight, immortality led to the elvish melancholy that appears many times in the trilogy; as they form alliances with and get to know members of the other races, the mortals die and new generations come along (Letters 236). This becomes a great burden as ages pass and the world changes around them, but they remain constant. This leads to two of the weaknesses displayed by the Elves—constantly looking to the past and an unwillingness to change. Thus, Sam and the Company felt like they were walking in a past age in Lothlórien, and Galadriel fears the probable results of the successful achievement of the Quest of Mount Doom (FR 474).

Envy is also very evident in the Elves' resentment of the Gift of Men from Ilúvatar—which is death. Even in The Silmarillion, the Valar perceived that the Elves' immortality was no gift in a Middle-earth that was itself mortal. With his younger children, mortal men, Erú was more careful and gave them the chance to leave the circles of the world forever. Even in their afterlife, the Elves will not be reunited with the other races as seen in the Choice of Luthien, who gives up her immortality in the Undying Lands to spend an eternity with Beren in the Halls of Mandos (FR 259-60). This is likewise why the final parting of Arwen and Elrond is so bitter—because it is forever. Ironically, the men of Middle-earth do not often see Death as a “gift” and envy the Elves because they are immortal. This even led to the downfall of Númenor when Ar-Pharazôn sought to wrest immortality from the Valar (The Silmarillion 334-37).

The Elves' envy also manifests itself in a vice Gower associates with that sin: withdrawal. Since they cannot relate successfully with mortals, the Elves have begun to withdraw—not only into their secret enclaves, but also out of Middle-earth and into the Undying Lands. “‘They are sailing, sailing, sailing over the Sea, they are going into the West and leaving us’” remarks Sam, even before the adventure begins (FR 70). With few exceptions, the Elves have withdrawn so far that they have lost interest in Middle-earth, viewing themselves almost as exiles. When Gildor Inglorion and his company encounter Frodo, Pippin, and Sam on their second night out, he is reluctant to part with much knowledge or advice and tells the hobbits bluntly

The Elves have their own labors and their own sorrows, and they are little concerned with the ways of hobbits, or of any other creatures on earth. Our paths cross theirs seldom, by chance or by purpose.

(FR 121)

This sentiment is echoed in an almost cruelly pointed statement made by Lindir in the House of Elrond: “It is not easy for us to tell the difference between two mortals. … To sheep other sheep no doubt appear different, or to shepherds. But Mortals have not been our study. We have other business” (FR 309-10). Still, as in the case of the first two Deadly Sins, Tolkien again shows us one of the representative race overcoming this vice when Glorfindel expresses the eleven willingness to assist the quest of the ring, despite the chance that in the One Ring's destruction, the power of the elven rings will fail and with it, the future of the race in Middle-earth: “‘Yet all the Elves are willing to endure this chance, … if by it the power of Sauron may be broken and the fear of his dominion be taken away forever’” (FR 352).

The next of the Deadly Sins to enter in Langland's work is Sloth who appears

all beslobbered with his gummy eyes. “I shall have to sit down,” he said, “or I'll fall asleep. I cannot stand or prop myself up all the time, and you can't expect me to kneel without a hassock. If I had been put to bed now, you'd never get me up before dinner was ready, not for all your bell-ringing—not unless nature called.”

(72-73)

Tolkien's venerable Ents demonstrate this sin. Treebeard tells Pippin and Merry that many of his race have grown sleepy, almost “treeish” and have taken to standing by themselves, “half-asleep all through the summer” (TT 92). This inactivity, this lack of resolve has left the Ents forgotten by many of the other peoples of Middle-earth. And the Ents' sloth has also given Sauron and his minions their opportunity. Langland's description of this sin gives its attendant evils more emphasis than any other. He first lists delay as one of the characteristic malignancies of Sloth; Treebeard makes clear that his is one of his own faults: “But Saruman now! Saruman is a neighbour: I cannot overlook him. I must do something, I suppose. I have often wondered what I should do about Saruman” (TT 89-90). Upon hearing Pippin and Merry's story, delay comes to an end. Treebeard announces that he has summoned an Entmoot, something “which does not often happen nowadays” (TT 97-98), but which he now feels is overdue.

The second evil of Sloth is forgetfulness, a natural result of inertia. When he first meets the hobbits, Treebeard has trouble remembering the old lists of the creatures of Middle-earth. He has likewise almost forgotten what the Entwives look like and has problems remembering their names. The next wrong associated with Sloth is negligence, of which Treebeard accuses himself and his fellow Ents, who have failed in their duties as shepherds of the trees. In the face of the attacks and maraudings of Saruman and his orcs, they have been negligent too long, such as Skinbark, who was “wounded by the Orcs, and many of his folk and his tree-herds have been murdered and destroyed” (TT 92). In reaction, he went up in the high places amid the birches and would not come down. Treebeard then explicitly indicts himself for idleness, a fault Langland also associates with Sloth:

Many of those trees were my friends, creatures I had known from nut and acorn; many had voices of their own that are lost for ever now. And there are wastes of stump and bramble where once there were singing groves. I have been idle. I have let things slip.

(TT 91)

Again, though, the race chosen to illustrate Sloth also demonstrates its opposite virtue. Treebeard grows so angry at the treachery of Saruman that he rouses up all his fellow Ents and they set out to redress the wrongs done against them and their trees: “To Isengard! … We go, we go, we go to war, to hew the stone and break the door; For bole and bough are burning now, the furnace roars—we go to war!” (TT 106). Note how Tolkien encourages moral behavior here and elsewhere by showing, rather than exhorting, virtue in action; this technique appears less didactic than what the medieval sources have done.

Next in Langland's parade of evil is Gluttony, who

could neither walk nor stand without his stick. And once he got going, he moved like a blind minstrel's bitch, or like a fowler laying his lines, sometimes sideways, sometimes backwards. And when he drew near to the door, his eyes grew glazed, and he stumbled on the threshold and fell flat on the ground.

(71)

In Tolkien's world, the hobbits sometimes display this vice, for we learn early in Hobbit that Bilbo (and all hobbits) expect frequent, full meals. Indeed, Mr. Baggins is so flummoxed after Gandalf's initial visit that he has to calm his nerves with some more cake. We hear about his well-stocked larder during the unexpected party and listen to Bilbo's complaints throughout the story that he has missed so many meals that he has lost count and wishes to be back in his cozy hobbit hole—eating. The first incident in FR is the parallel long awaited party at which it “snowed food and rained drink” and from which many of the guests had to literally be carried home because they were so satiated (60). Later on in the adventure we are told that hobbit children learn to cook as soon as they learn to read (if not before) because food and eating are such important parts of their existence. When Frodo and Sam are alone in the wilds with only Gollum as their guide, Sam notes his master's gauntness and decides that he must cook something nourishing (TT 325). This love of food and drink explains the characteristic plumpness of most adult hobbits, justifies the reference to Bilbo's bulging waistcoat, and anticipates the description of a dumpling-shaped Mr. Baggins running down the road after the departing dwarves.

In his panegyric on the Deadly Sins, Chaucer's Pardoner has a lot to say against the activities and attitudes of some individuals who seem “to make their god their belly.” As well, the Pardoner points out the connection of Gluttony to other evils:

O gluttony, with reason we complain!
O if one knew how many a malady
Must follow such excess and gluttony,
To eat with moderation he'd be able
Whenever he is sitting at his table.

(Tales 341)

Tolkien is also aware of this, for the hobbits' girth seems to be connected with their indolence; when we see them at home, they appear to spend most of their time eating, drinking, and attending parties. Plumpness prompts their aversion to adventures. The well-fed and cautious Mr. Baggins dismisses Gandalf with a curt, “we have no use for adventures. Nasty, disturbing things! Make you late for dinner!” (Hobbit 16). Both Bilbo and Frodo, as their adventures go on, shed their excess weight due to short rations and activity. In Elrond's house, Frodo speaks as he sees his reflection in a mirror: “‘Yes, you have seen a thing or two since you last peeped out of a looking-glass’” (FR 295). Attendant on this loss of weight seems to be a growing willingness to go on adventures and even behave heroically if the situation demands without so much as a backward glance at their well-stocked holes. In the woods, on the second night of their journey to Crickhollow, the hobbits meet Gildor, who tells them the “‘wide world is all about you: you can fence yourselves in, but you cannot for ever fence it out’” (FR 120). As they shed their excess weight, the hobbits develop constancy, bravery, and a sense of moral responsibility that enables them to go out on adventures and indeed do great things. Perhaps this is what Tolkien himself had in mind when his narrator comments on halflings: “There is a seed of courage hidden (often deeply, it is true) in the heart of the fattest and most timid hobbit, waiting for some final desperate danger to make it grow” (FR 192).

It is not seldom that one sees
The rage of lechery today,
Take what it will, and where it may.
For love, which is devoid and bare
Of reason, as all men declare,
When heedlessness and folly fire
Its wild voluptuous desire,
Spares not a thought for kin or kind.

(Gower 260)

Thus John Gower introduces the figure of Lechery into his work. Tolkien gives this sin sketchy treatment. Its representative is again a mortal man, albeit a twisted caricature of one. Grima Wormtongue, already examined as a figure of presumption, assumes the power and authority of his Lord, Theoden. Worse still, he has betrayed the master and the people he was supposed to serve. He did, indeed, fill the role of counselor to the Lord of the Riddermark of Rohan, but the advice he gave was dictated by Saruman to assure the inactivity and, eventually, the fall of the Rohirrim. Gandalf theorizes correctly that Wormtongue's promised reward included a vast share of the treasury of Meduseld, and more importantly the hand of Éowyn on whose person Grima had long cast lecherous eyes and lascivious looks. The wizard further charges, moreover, that Wormtongue had “haunted her steps” (TT 153), which sounds like stalking. A major difference in Tolkien's treatment of this vice is that there is no repentance on the part of an offender. Grima is twice given the opportunity to renounce his wrongs and join the forces of the free peoples. But each time he chooses to continue in the evil life, and he eventually is shot down by the hobbit archers for his murder of Saruman on the very doorstep of Bag End (RK 318, 365).

Anger, the seventh of the Deadly Sins, first appears in Gower's Confessio Amantis so described:

If thou wouldst know all sins,
Most alien to the law is one
Well known on earth to human-kind
Since ever men had swords to grind:
And, in the power of this Vice,
Good friends have often, in a trice,
Been maddened by the merest chance.
And yet the Vice does not enhance
Men's pleasure: where it most achieves,
There also most mankind it grieves.

(123)

Tolkien chose to depict Anger in the figures of the Goblins and Orcs, who seem to be in a constant rage at the other races of Middle-earth or with each other. Treebeard explains that the orcs were made by Morgoth in the Great Darkness as counterfeits of the elves. As the Children of the Stars were noble, logically the orcs were villainous. When they first appear in Hobbit, the Great Goblin gives a howl of rage and gets so angry that he jumps off his throne and rushes at Thorin (71). In the camp of the orcs who capture Merry and Pippin, Grishnákh and Uglúk perfectly manifest the noisy and brawling irritability that characterizes this race at all times: “‘Curse you! You're as bad as the other rabble; the maggots and the apes of Lugbúrz’” (TT 66). In Cirith Ungol, Shagrat and Gorbag aim their wrath and rancor against one another as often as against Frodo and Sam:

“Got you Gorbag!” cried Shagrat. “Not quite dead, eh? Well, I'll finish my job now.” He sprang onto the fallen body and stamped and tramped it in his fury, stopping now and again to stab and slash it with his knife.

(RK 218)

Finally, on the crest of the Morgai, Sam and an exhausted Frodo listen to the angry words of a soldier orc and a small tracker until the fury of the smaller goads him into shooting his comrade with an arrow (RK 242-43). Since they exist in a world so full of mistrust and violence, it is easy to understand why Orcs are so easily made angry.

Attendant on anger are two ancillary vices—hatred and war. The hate orcs feel for the other races of Middle-earth is clearly described in both Hobbit and LR. In Hobbit, Tolkien informs us that “Goblins are cruel, wicked and badhearted. … They did not hate dwarves especially, no more than they hated everybody and everything” (69). In RK, after we have encountered many more of this vile folk, Frodo further explains:

Orcs have always behaved like that, or so all tales say, when they are on their own. But you can't get much hope out of it. They hate us far more, altogether and all the time. If those two would have seen us, they would have dropped all their quarrel until we were dead.

(249)

As for their practices of violence and war, goblins “don't care who they catch as long as it is done smart and secret and the prisoners are not able to defend themselves” (Hobbit 69). In a manner similar to Wormtongue and his wrongs, the orcs are given the chance to repent of their evil and escape punishment. This occurs at the Battle of Helm's Deep when Aragorn warns them to withdraw or “‘[n]ot one will be left alive to take back tidings’” (TT 178). Like Wormtongue, the orcs refuse this offer—and the result is the same: death at the hands of those against whom they felt such anger.

In the tradition of Gower, Langland, and Chaucer, then, Tolkien did indeed “reflect and contain in solution elements of moral and religious truth” in an effort to foster virtuous behavior as some medieval writers did through the ancient device of the figures embodying the Seven Deadly Sins. By depicting the vices and virtues of his characters, Tolkien encourages his readers to adopt a new awareness of right and wrong so that by the end of the books, their understanding is very different from when they started. At the conclusion of Hobbit, Gandalf remarks to Bilbo, “You are not the hobbit that you were,” (281) and in the final pages of LR, Saruman says to Frodo, ‘“You have grown Halfling, … you have grown very much. You are wise.” (RK 364). If Tolkien has been successful in his use of these medieval figures of sin, these observations are true of the readers as well.

Works Cited

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Langland, William. Piers the Plowman. Trans. J. F. Goodridge. Baltimore: Penguin, 1966.

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Robertson, D. W. A Preface to Chaucer. Princeton: Princeton UP, 1962.

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