The letters that “Father Nicholas Christmas” wrote to the children of J.R.R. Tolkien between the years 1920 and 1943 represent one of the most impressive Christmas gifts that I know of. A talented author with a unique gift for building fantasy worlds enhanced the magic of his family’s Christmas seasons through a decades-long series of annual letters that, over time, developed an elaborate and internally consistent world of the kind for which Tolkien is known and loved. Those letters, collected by Baillie Tolkien and published in 1976 as Letters from Father Christmas, provide a unique look into Tolkien’s literary imagination, and make for a Christmas book of particular imaginative depth and resonance.
One single letter from 1920, addressed to 3-year-old John and sent from “Christmas House, North Pole,” constitutes a modest beginning to what later becomes a sort of epic Christmas fantasy. Father Christmas, in shaky red handwriting, assures little John in his one-page letter that “I am just off now for Oxford with my bundle of toys” (p. 10). It is a quiet introduction to what will become a particularly magical Christmas land.
By 1923, Father Christmas is getting a bit more detailed in his setting-forth of North Pole life. He informs 6-year-old John that he thinks the reason for his shaky handwriting is that “I am nineteen hundred and twenty four – no, seven! – years old on Christmas Day” (p. 15) – reflecting, perhaps, Father Christmas’ awareness that Great Britain’s switch from the Julian to the Gregorian calendar, back in 1752, makes him three years older than he thought he was. The letters abound in just this kind of fun and vivid detail; and 1923 also represents the beginning of Father Christmas sending his letters, without fail, to the Tolkien children every December for the next 20 years.
By December 20, 1926, when Father Christmas is writing from “Cliff House, Top of the World,” to 9-year-old John, 6-year-old Michael, and 2-year-old Christopher, the world of Cliff House is being set forth in more complete detail. The letters, with North Pole stamps and postmarks, are longer and more elaborate, and are accompanied by drawings that give this North Pole world a gorgeous, otherworldly feel – much like the Tolkien illustrations that one can see on the covers of the Ballantine Books paperback printings of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings.
And new characters have made their presence known as well. An unintentional agent of chaos is the North Polar Bear, a friendly and well-meaning fellow who nonetheless has a penchant for accidentally causing some trouble. In the 1926 letter, Father Christmas tells the Tolkien boys how “The tap for turning on the Rory Bory Aylis fireworks is still in the cellar of my old house. The North Polar Bear knew he must never, never touch it. I only let it off on special days like Christmas.” But the North Polar Bear, thinking that the tap had been cut off, inadvertently flooded the pole with two years’ worth of Northern Lights illumination in just one night. Stars were shaken out of place, and the Man in the Moon fell into Father Christmas’ back garden. Father Christmas adds that the Man in the Moon “ate quite a lot of my Christmas chocolates before he said he felt better and climbed back to mend it and get the stars tidy” (p. 26).
The 1927 letter to the Tolkien boys shows that order has been to some extent restored – Father Christmas reports that the Man in the Moon, knocked out of the sky the year before, “paid me a visit the other day – a fortnight ago exactly – he often does about this time, as he gets lonely in the Moon, and we make him a nice little Plum Pudding (he is so fond of things with plums in!)” (p. 33)
Yet the North Polar Bear continues to be an unintentional agent of chaos; F.C. reports that “Yesterday he was snowballing the Snow Man in the garden and pushed him over the edge of the cliff so that he fell into my sleigh at the bottom and broke lots of things – one of them was himself. I used some of what was left of him to paint my white picture. We shall have to make ourselves a new gardener when we are less busy” (pp. 32-33). The North Polar Bear, whose handwriting – a thick, runic scrawl – contrasts with Father Christmas’ shaky penmanship – regularly inserts into the letters fun defences of his own behaviour.
The illustrations throughout Letters from Father Christmas are a particular treat. One picture, from the 1929 letter, is described by Father Christmas as “a special picture” for 5-year-old Christopher; Father Christmas says that “It shows me crossing the sea on the upper North wind, while a South West gale – reindeer hate it – is raising big waves below” (p. 49). In the accompanying illustration, Father Christmas, seen from a distance, looks rather like a red-suited Gandalf, standing at the reins of his sleigh; reindeer push forward gamely against grey-clouded winter skies, whilst a stormy sea of pastel blues and greens rages below.
And while we’re on the subject of reindeer, aficionados of the flying variant of the genus Rangifer will be glad to hear Father Christmas expatiate on the proper way to deploy flying reindeer on Christmas Eve. In his letter of December 23, 1932, Father Christmas informs all four of the Tolkien children that “I usually use 7 pair (14 is such a nice number), and at Christmas, especially if I am hurried, I add my 2 special white ones in front” (p. 81). No red-nosed Rudolph in the lead, I’m sorry to say; the book Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer did not appear on the scene until 1939, and the Gene Autry song would be another ten years in the making.
The letters also reflect the often-difficult reality of the historical context within which Tolkien – excuse me, Father Christmas – is writing. Against the backdrop of a worldwide economic depression, Father Christmas adds that “I am not able to carry quite as much toy-cargo as usual this year, as I am taking a good deal of food and clothes (useful stuff): there are far too many people in your land, and others, who are hungry and cold this winter” (p. 85). Here, one senses how a loving parent is trying to acknowledge uncomfortable realities while at the same time providing comfort and reassurance for his children.
As Christmases follow upon one another, the world of Letters from Father Christmas comes more and more to resemble that of The Lord of the Rings. Cliff House is periodically invaded by goblins, and the North Polar Bear distinguishes himself in the fights that result. Father Christmas hires an Elven assistant named Ilbereth, whose elegant script contrasts with both Father Christmas’s shaky handwriting and North Polar Bear’s thick runic scrawl.
With the beginning of the Second World War in 1939, Father Christmas finds that he must acknowledge the terrible reality of that war. Writing solely to 10-year-old Priscilla on Christmas Eve in 1939, Father Christmas states that “I am very busy and things are very difficult this year owing to this horrible war. Many of my messengers have never come back” (p. 134). One year later, again to Priscilla, he writes that “This horrible war is reducing all our stocks, and in so many countries children are living far from their homes” (pp. 140-41). And in the 1941 letter to Priscilla, he reports that fewer children are even writing to F.C. “I expect it is because of this horrible war, and that when it is over things will improve again, and I shall be as busy as ever. But at present many people have lost their homes: or have left them; half the world seems in the wrong place” (p. 143).
And two years later, in the last of the letters, Father Christmas writes to 14-year-old Priscilla at Christmas of 1943 that “I suppose you will be hanging up your stocking just once more; I hope so, for I have still a few little things for you.” Parents all round the world may find a special pathos in the words that follow – Father Christmas’ parting words to the last of the Tolkien children with whom he corresponds: “After this, I shall have to say ‘goodbye’, more or less; I mean, I shall not forget you. We always keep the numbers of our old friends, and their letters; and later on we hope to come back when they are grown up and have houses of their own and children” (pp. 156-57).
It is a moving evocation of the way Christmas traditions grow and change over the years, in families that celebrate the holiday – and is part of what makes Letters from Father Christmas such a particularly memorable Christmas book.