Elendil the Insufferable Lying Bastard: Historical Bias in the Akallabêth (Part Two)

This is a continuation of my earlier post, delving into the implicit narrative bias within the Akallabêth, and what that says about Elendil as an in-universe author:

https://phuulishfellow.wordpress.com/2022/01/30/elendil-the-insufferable-lying-bastard-historical-bias-in-the-akallabeth-part-one/

As before, I am approaching this on a page by page basis.

Page 324

And now we come to Elendil’s political arch-nemesis, the last King of Númenor, Ar-Pharazôn the Golden.

It is difficult to truly grasp the depths to which Elendil’s hatred for this man runs – as we shall see, he not only deploys information in order to make Pharazôn look bad, but even his word-choices imply active demonisation. If not quite at the level of Procopius’ Secret History of Justinian and Theodora, it is not far off – it is perhaps the most spectacular hatchet-job in Tolkien’s legendarium, and the only redeeming feature Elendil can throw at his straw-man, save back-handed allusions to his military talents, is that Pharazôn was less evil than his adviser. For in addition to bashing the King, Elendil’s purpose means he needs to describe the villain behind the villain – at the the time Elendil wrote the Akallabêth, Pharazôn was gone, but Sauron of Mordor was still very much around.

In short, if Elendil is Gildas, then Pharazôn is Vortigern.

The first method Elendil uses in this systematic character assassination is to set up a narrative of successive generations of King’s Men, each becoming more evil as time goes on. He has earlier introduced Gimilzôr as “the greatest enemy of the Faithful.” Gimilzôr’s son, Gimilkhâd, is then described as being like his father, but even prouder and more wilful. Now Gimilkhâd’s son, Pharazôn, is described as more restless, greedy, and power-hungry than his own father. At the narrative level, this serves to create the impression that Pharazôn is a worse monster than even “the greatest enemy of the Faithful,” and as such represents the absolute dregs of humanity.

(Curiously, while Elendil takes great delight in pointing out the early death of Gimilkhâd, at a mere 198, he straight-out ignores that Pharazôn outlived his father, being 201 years old at the invasion of Aman (Unfinished Tales, p.288.). If early death in the line of Elros is a statement of moral corruption, as Elendil seems to imply, does that make Pharazôn less evil than Gimilkhâd?).

Elendil then introduces Pharazôn as a successful general and military leader, but does so in a back-handed manner. Pharazôn’s victories are treated as merely wars the Númenoreans have started themselves, for the purpose of domination and wealth – a contrast to the soft-power colonialism preferred by Elendil. However, in light of Unfinished Tales (pp.340-341.), and indeed the unfinished story Tal-Elmar (The Peoples of Middle-earth, pp.422-437.), one wonders whether the Men of Middle-earth saw much difference between the old and new flavours of colonialism. Hazad Longbeard’s account (POME, p.427.) certainly implies little local love for Númenorean ‘benevolence’ in the centuries prior:

They will send forth smaller boats laden with goods, and strange things both beautiful and useful such as our folk covet. These they will sell to us for small price, or give as gifts, feigning friendship, and pity for our need; and they will dwell a while, and spy out the land and the numbers of the folk, and then go. And if they do not return, men should be thankful, for if they come again it is in other guise. In greater numbers they come then: two ships or more together, stuffed with men and not goods, and ever one of the accursed ships hath black wings. For that is the Ship of the Dark, and in it they bear away evil booty, captives packed like beasts, the fairest women and children, or young men unblemished, and that is their end.

Elendil might celebrate the gifts to backwards people, but the locals merely see it as reconnaissance. A cynic might therefore suggest Pharazôn’s only real sin was to be genuinely good at what the Númenoreans were doing anyway, while being less apologetic and less self-righteous about it.

Elendil then alludes to Pharazôn returning to Númenor in the aftermath of his father’s death, and describes how the fellow was extremely generous in distributing the wealth he had gained on campaign. The implication, of course, is that Pharazôn was buying popular support, in anticipation of a coup d’etat. After all, Tar-Palantir would have likely been unpopular, and the King was not getting any younger.

It is more than possible that Elendil’s suspicions were valid, especially in light of what was to come. Pharazôn was clearly an ambitious man. But there seems to be evidence elsewhere in Tolkien that he was also naturally a generous one:

He was a man of great beauty and strength/stature after the image of the first kings, and indeed in his youth was not unlike the Edain of old in mind also, though he had strength of will rather of wisdom as after appeared, when he was corrupted by the counsels of his father and the acclaim of the people… (POME, p.159.).

The implication here is that by the time of his father’s death, Pharazôn had indeed become quite corrupted. However, one might also note the “acclaim of the people”. Pharazôn’s military successes and raw charisma had clearly made him popular, and if such acclaim were going to his head, then he was also a man who enjoyed being popular. Rather than wealth-distribution as a cynical throne-buying measure, one might hypothesise a jovial (but not overly bright) man, extremely vulnerable to bad influences, but happy to spread the wealth around because that kept everyone cheering his name. More a himbo than a Machiavelli, but between his status as leader of the King’s Men and his worldly materialism, still enough to earn Elendil’s enmity, notwithstanding that Pharazôn had been friendly with Elendil’s father, Amandil, in his youth (POME, p.159.).

(One might speculate that Elendil was more dogmatic in his commitment to party discipline than Amandil. But as per POME, p.161., Pharazôn was willing to openly defy his own father, the harsh and ungentle Gimilkhâd, in such matters of friendship – not that Elendil would ever tell you).

And now we come to the first of Pharazôn’s notorious sins. The forced marriage and usurpation.

Elendil holds him guilty of three evils here: forcing himself upon Miriel against her will, wedding his first cousin, and finally, his illegitimate seizure of power. In a mere two sentences, Elendil gives us Ar-Pharazôn the Usurping Rapist, a figure every bit as monstrous and malevolent as Shakespeare’s Richard III, and, of course, destined to lead his country to literal destruction.

Like Richard III, however, Pharazôn is dealing with a scribe who has every reason and motivation to blacken his name, and whereas Elendil will later have good reason for this hatred, for the present there is reason to think Elendil is exaggerating for his own purposes. Those purposes being that the losing side in a dynastic power-squabble has no particular reason to consider the winner’s position legitimate, and every reason to highlight their failures and moral transgressions. Elendil wants his readers to endorse the “correct” succession.

Taking the first charge, that of forced marriage and marital rape, it is worth considering two subsequent factors: Pharazôn remained wedded to Miriel for the rest of his life, and that in the absence of any children, she appears to have remained his only heir. I have previously used this as a jumping-off point for speculating about Pharazôn’s potential homosexuality or at least asexuality, but in terms of the present discussion, there seems to be a curious implication here. Namely that a King so obsessed with ambition – and monstrous enough to rape his way to the throne – does not feel inclined to murder or even imprison Miriel afterwards, notwithstanding that she is a potential focal-point for opposition to his rule. This is a King who will later bloodily sacrifice human beings to Middle-earth’s Satan-figure, but who feels squeamish at neutralising an internal threat within his own Palace? I do not buy it.

It is further noteworthy that Elendil spends as much space on this alleged marital rape as he does in discussing the legalistic technicalities of cousin-marriage. It is almost as though this episode is presented as “one more reason to oppose the King’s policies”, rather than any semblance of genuine moral outrage on Elendil’s part – though since Elendil does not even record the identity of his own wife, one could hypothesise a degree of implicit misogyny there too. The cherry on top is the supposed final fate of Miriel in the Downfall, which Elendil has literally no way of knowing (but records anyway), and which seems to condemn the Queen for partial culpability in Pharazôn’s regime. As I have suggested, something does not add up in Elendil’s account.

Fortunately, Tolkien provides us with an alternative to Elendil’s version, and this does appear a better fit for the historical facts as we know them.

Under this scenario, considered in POME, pp.159-160., Miriel falls for Pharazôn of her own free will – he is, after all, handsome, charismatic, and extremely rich. She yields the throne and sceptre to him willingly, but keeps her own royal title under a changed name. As per POME p.161., we get a variant where Pharazôn falls in love with her beauty, notwithstanding the political and legal difficulties – essentially making this a Romeo and Juliet-style situation. This would explain why Miriel’s predicament disappears from the rest of Elendil’s narrative – she is only useful as a stick to beat Pharazôn with, not someone with their own agency, and the wave sweeping her off Meneltarma is Divine Punishment enough.

(The question then becomes about whether Tar-Palantir was aware of his daughter’s inclinations. One suspects the old King was too caught up in penitent grief to notice. If Tar-Palantir had genuinely cared about securing the throne for her, his late-life abdication would have been a shrewd move. At a stroke, he would have revived an old custom – fitting his ideology – and allowed himself space to weigh-in against an unwise marriage).

But if this version of events is a better fit, why did Tolkien not introduce it into the Akallabêth? He even seems to have rejected it, as per POME, p.162.. In answer to this, I would suggest that even if it were the “true” events, such an account would not fit the purpose of the Akallabêth. The Akallabêth demonises Pharazôn, and a variant where he is not a marital rapist would run counter to that. Better to keep Elendil on message, so to speak.

In addressing Elendil’s two remaining complaints about Pharazôn’s ascension, let us first consider his objection to first-cousin marriage. In one sense, it is a strange thing to object to (especially when put in conjunction with alleged marital rape), and feels a decidedly technical point to emphasise – it is the sort of thing the losing side in a dynastic power-squabble would latch onto, to sooth their bruised egos, and to be fair, that is exactly what Elendil is doing. He was indeed on the losing side of this particular power-squabble. However, once one factors in Elendil’s extreme Quendiphilia, another reason emerges.

Númenor had changed its royal marriage laws before, most notably in the case of Aldarion’s alterations after his disaster with Erendis (Unfinished Tales, p.269.), and there is no particular reason those laws could not have been changed again. The problem is that the first-cousin prohibition appears to have been inherited from the Elves – whom Elendil adores with every fibre of his being. A law-change that would make the Númenorean monarchy less Elvish must therefore be opposed. Presumably, via his interactions with Gil-galad, Cirdan, and Elrond, Elendil would also have been aware of the dark precedent of Maeglin’s love for Idril, though that pair never wed, due to Idril rejecting Maeglin’s advances. One would imagine that among the educated Faithful, the prospect of Pharazôn sharing his cousin’s bed would have evoked rhetorical allusions to Gondolin – at least behind closed doors.

As for the wider issue of Pharazôn’s usurpation, one might suggest that here we see a split between a legitimist view of royal succession (endorsed by Elendil), and the practical realities of governing Númenor in the fourth millennium. The social split between the King’s Men and the Faithful had deepened to concerning levels, and while Appendix B’s reference to Civil War in Númenor is not borne out by Elendil’s narrative, the realm was clearly heading in just such a direction. As such, Pharazôn’s marriage to Miriel – a joining of the two great factions – might be seen as a sincere effort at Unification, however failed that effort might eventually turn out to be. But Elendil does not deal with such nuances or messy political compromises. He sees such things as impious, and worthy of condemnation – this is an utterly inflexible man, only too willing to anticipate the eventual arrival of Divine Wrath.

In rounding off this extended discussion of page 324, there are three more points to consider. The first is Elendil’s deliberate contrast between the material wealth and glory of Númenor – he devotes a paragraph to describing dead Kings and Queens upon golden beds – and the apparent disquiet and discontent among the people. Having attained his “carven throne,” Pharazôn does not rest on his luxurious laurels in peace, but in his dissatisfaction immediately starts thinking of War. Elendil here is reinforcing his on-going criticism of worldly materialism, of course, noting the absurdity of showering the Dead with wealth, while implicitly making the point that true happiness comes from the spiritual, not the material. One imagines St Augustine would approve.

The second point is the description of Pharazôn “brooding darkly.” Tempting as it is to note that Tolkien reserves this phrase for unpleasant individuals (Melkor and Fëanor being other examples of dark brooding), for our purposes it might be evidence that Elendil had actually read Pengolodh and Rúmil’s work. As an educated Faithful Númenorean, with Elven contacts in Lindon and Imladris, he would have been well-equipped to study the ancient Elvish texts, either before or after the Downfall. Elendil using the notorious phrase in his own writing might well be seen as an artistic homage to the earlier loremasters, whom he would have admired in accordance with his chronic Quendiphilia. Better yet it simultaneously works as a subtle dig at Pharazôn. Tolkien’s translation would have preserved Elendil’s meaning, of course.

The third and final point is Elendil’s suggestion that Pharazôn had learned of Sauron’s military strength during his own campaigns in Middle-earth, and that Pharazôn had also learned of the Dark Lord’s “hatred of Westernesse.” One imagines that Elendil accessed this information from his father, Amandil, who would have been on hand at Pharazôn’s Court (seriously, Armenelos leaks like a sieve). But this also argues against the notion that the Númenoreans had some elaborate spy-network in Sauron’s domain – unless Tar-Palantir was sitting on files of information, Sauron’s threat should have been common knowledge much earlier. One would guess that Pharazôn – notwithstanding his Imperialist tendencies – had been communicating with the Men of Middle-earth or Harad, who in turn had received communications from Sauron’s forces. Pharazôn would not have been inclined to approach the Elves for military intelligence.

Page 325

We start off this page with a pleasant change – Elendil directly citing sources. In this case, he refers to masters of ships and military captains returning to Númenor, bringing news of Sauron’s military offensive against Imperial holdings. Furthermore, these people also bring rumour of Sauron’s apparent declarations – that he claims the title “King of Men” and intends to drive Númenor into the sea. Given the manner in which Sauron operates, this was likely intended to taunt the Númenoreans into something foolish.

By citing these sources, Elendil also inadvertently reveals something interesting – that Sauron was keeping tabs on Pharazôn’s movements, and timed his offensive accordingly. Sauron is nothing if not clever. Moreover, this episode ironically reveals the importance of Pharazôn to the Númenorean war-effort. The man was clearly an excellent general, to a degree that even Elendil cannot hide. Which, of course, is why Elendil falls back on questioning the point of all these conquests – Pharazôn is good at what he does, but is what he does worth doing?

Pharazôn’s response to Sauron’s offensive is predictable – he organises an invasion fleet to counter the Dark Lord. But when Elendil informs us that “he pondered long in secret, his heart was filled with the desire of power unbounded and the sole dominion of his will,” one can only suggest that our in-universe author is putting his own poisonous words into Pharazôn’s mouth. No doubt Amandil (and maybe Elendil himself) would have heard Pharazôn’s speech at the end of his private deliberations, but short of Elendil getting his hands on the King’s personal diary, this is the narrator taking significant liberties with the historical record via presuming to describe his enemy’s inner thoughts. Though to be fair to Elendil, it is abundantly clear by this point that Pharazôn’s ego could crush Meneltarma beneath its weight. Accusing him of having such desires is not completely unfounded, even if it is unfair.

Meanwhile, Elendil shows his own pre-occupations. He notes that Pharazôn decided to claim the title of “King of Men” for himself, without counsel of the Valar or any wisdom but his own. Elendil, again, seems to think that the Valar ought to dictate the political organisation of the mortal realm to a degree far greater than they actually do. Though, frankly, this comes across less as any detailed philosophical treatise on the relationship of temporal rulers to the Valar, and more an angry man attacking his hated enemy with a criticism only hardened followers of the Faithful would actually care about. Elendil’s fanatical devotion to Higher Authority would probably be enough to scare the Vanyar themselves sometimes.

Then we get a detailed account of the invasion itself – the sailing of the fleet, its landing at Umbar, and the subsequent march towards Mordor. It is a description detailed enough that one could reasonably assume Elendil was actually involved in the operations himself, and is giving us a personal account of events. Right down to the description of the blue, white, and gold tents, and Pharazôn’s pavilion and throne upon a hill. This would suggest, of course, that Pharazôn had no problems with the Faithful being in his military (indeed, one suspects he probably thought it their duty), and that the Faithful did not object to service, even if they considered the purpose of the campaign unwise. This creates an interesting contrast to the real-life historical predicament of British Catholics, who were actually officially banned from military service prior to Emancipation in the early nineteenth century.

Page 326

Here Elendil deals with Sauron’s infamous tactical surrender, the Dark Lord’s arrival in Númenor, and his rise from prisoner to Pharazôn’s most trusted adviser.

Just as Elendil has earlier presumed to record the inner thoughts of Pharazôn, now he also presumes to access Sauron’s inner psychology. Absurd, of course, but Elendil is not shy about making claims about what his enemies are thinking. That said, given that Elendil was likely on-hand to witness Sauron’s surrender, and that he knew better than most what Sauron actually was, and that he heard the Dark Lord’s “fair and wise” words for himself… one imagines that he could retrospectively fit matters together. This text was written after the Downfall, of course, so Elendil has seen Sauron’s full plan play out.

A point of interest here is Elendil’s claim that Pharazôn was not deceived by Sauron’s words at the surrender. Highly uncharacteristic praise, and probably a reflection of the King’s own words. Of course, Elendil makes very sure to identify Pharazôn’s plan to take the Dark Lord home as a fatal mistake – and indeed in hindsight it was. But Pharazôn had no way of knowing this at the time, and one suspects his hostility to the Elves meant that he had less knowledge of First Age lore than Elendil. His grandfather’s banning of the Elvish languages might well have ruined the non-Faithful nobility’s ability to access ancient texts.

Another thing neither Pharazôn nor Elendil knew about at this point was the One Ring on Sauron’s finger (Letter 211). As a mechanism for the domination of wills, the Ring was, of course, unsurpassed, and given the way the Ring is portrayed in The Lord of the Rings, it is highly impressive that Pharazôn – a mortal man of no great moral rectitude – was actually able to endure Sauron’s direct personal influence over such a length of time. Elendil’s disgust that it took a mere three years for Sauron to go from prisoner to counsellor is actually unfair, given what the wider legendarium would suggest. Tolkien’s own Letters (Letter 246) suggest that no mortal, not even Aragorn, could have successfully withheld the Ring in Sauron’s presence, such was his ability to dominate.

(Meanwhile, the One Ring would have done its work on Pharazôn’s other counsellors too, though Elendil puts their behaviour down to a culture of general toadying in a corrupt court. Elendil insists that his father resisted all of Sauron’s charms, of course. He might even be right – though Elendil would hardly say anything else. One might also suggest that Sauron was not actually trying to corrupt the Faithful, given that he had the ear of the majority anyway, and it would be more convenient for him to turn the majority against the minority. Thus Elendil notes that the Faithful started to find themselves called rebels…).

**

Another break for length. Tune in next time for more Elendil-bashing, as I make my way through critiquing his Akallabêth one page at a time.

(As an aside, this also happens to be my 666th blog post. Appropriate enough, given the impending subject matter).

Addendum: The link to part one is at the start of this post. Here is Part Three: https://phuulishfellow.wordpress.com/2022/02/01/elendil-the-insufferable-lying-bastard-historical-bias-in-the-akallabeth-part-three/

Addendum II: And Part Four: https://phuulishfellow.wordpress.com/2022/02/07/elendil-the-insufferable-lying-bastard-historical-bias-in-the-akallabeth-part-four/

• January 31, 2022
• Reading, Tolkien essays
• 4 Comments