Wireless, part two

So, here's the final half of the second of Tolkien's two English-language dialogues from 1930, 'Wireless'*


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Lesson Thirty: "Wireless"

PART II. CONVERSATION.

The Curious Friend [A. Lloyd James]: Well, how's your wireless going?

The Wireless Enthusiast [J. R. R. Tolkien]: Oh, not too badly, though I've had some difficulty lately in getting distant stations. I suppose it's the weather.

ALJ: What station are you trying to get now?

JRRT: I want to pick up Daventry if I can. Do you ever get any of the English stations?

ALJ: I do sometimes, but mine is only a three valve set, and not of the latest type either, so I'm not always successful in getting England.

JRRT: Sh! Here we are. Listen.

ALJ: What is he saying?

JRRT: This is London and Daventry calling the English Isles. He is going to tell us all about the weather, and then there will be a concert from the Queen's Hall.

ALJ: That ought to be very good.

JRRT: It is. Sh! Listen. Can you hear the orchestra tuning up? And now the applause as the conductor walks up to his desk.

ALJ: What are they going to play? Have you got the programme?

JRRT: Yes . . . Here they are as clear as anything. You know this, of course. The Tristan overture by Wagner.

ALJ: Isn't it marvellous? To think that we can sit here in comfort and listen to music hundreds of miles away!

JRRT: Yes, it's very wonderful indeed. Who would have thought it possible, say twenty-five years ago, that we should be able to hear, whilst sitting in our own room, a waltz played in Vienna, a mazurka played in Warsaw, chamber music from London, an opera from Berlin or Rome.

ALJ: And before long, I suppose, television will be as common as broadcasting is to-day.

..........................


--while 'At the Tobacconist' had a v. good match between its topic and our mental image of JRRT, at first glance it's rather surprising to find Tolkien talking about something as modern as radio was in 1930. But Tolkien was no Luddite: he drove cars throughout the 1930s and 1940s, took trains, used a typewriter, and made broadcasts on radio. We don't know how much of this script's detail Tolkien was responsible for, but its devotion to music shd also not surprise us: Tolkien loved music, and seems to have been v. well-versed in it -- his wife was a good enough pianist to have considered a career as a professional musician; we have several mentions of him attending concerts in Oxford when occasion offered; and one of the earliest glimpses into what might be the Inklings beginning to coalesce comes in Tolkien and Lewis getting together with Warnie on a regular basis to listen to recordings of Wagner's complete works (which, given from the date that these must have been .78rpms, with only a few minutes' worth on music on each side, was a considerable task).

One way in which this transcript might be misleading it that anyone reading it might well imagine that the various sounds Tolkien and Lloyd James are describing are actually audible in the background. Alas no: there are no sounds of radio-tuning to find a station, an orchestra tuning up, the conductor walking out, or indeed the Wagner: only the two men talking, like Shakespearean actors conjuring up what the audience is supposed to imagine. Even so, the casual allusion to the coming of television in the final line is surprising, and prescient.

--JDR

*i.e., 'Radio'.

Wireless, part one

So, here's the text for the first half of the second of Tolkien's two contributions to the Linguaphone Institute set of English language lessons from circa 1930.

In this recording, Tolkien and A. Lloyd James switch places, so that Professor James is the speaker of this first part. I'm no expert in old tech talk, but the part about "a five-valve set" sounded rather odd to my ear. Based on my grandfather's old set inherited by my cousin, I'd guess that perhaps what we call vacuum tubes the British called valves. And it is rather amusing to hear the plug for the Linguaphone itself in this final piece in the fifteen-record set.

To follow: the dialogue between Tolkien and James about the wonders of 'wireless'.


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Lesson Thirty: "Wireless"

PART I. DESCRIPTION.

"Wireless," or "Radio" as it's sometimes called, is the most wonderful discovery in an age of discoveries. Seated comfortably in your home, you can hear music, lectures, and news broadcast hundreds of miles away. By means of wireless telephony, you can carry on a conversation with a friend on the other side of the world.

I listen in almost every evening. I began, like most amateurs, with a simple crystal set with ear-phones and an outdoor aerial attached to the roof, but now I have a five-valve set, with an indoor frame-aerial and loud-speaker. The results are excellent. I can cut out the local station quite easily and have no difficulty whatever in getting almost any station I like in Europe. I don't profess to know anything of the technical side of the business. One of my friends -- Hughes -- talks very learnedly about long and short wave lengths, dials, batteries, condensers, oscillators, self-induction and other coils, switches, high and low tension, but it's all Greek to me. I know just about enough to turn the knobs and tune in to the station I want.

I use my wireless set a good deal for keeping up my foreign languages: I find it a very useful addition to the Linguaphone Courses. When I want to hear German, I tune in to somewhere in Germany. France gives me French, Spain Spanish and Italy Italian. And what a blessing wireless has been in times of disaster at sea. Thousands must owe their lives to this discovery of the twentieth century.

At the Tobacconist, part two

Here's a transcript of the second half of Lesson Twenty: 'At the Tobacconist' --JDR


PART II. CONVERSATION.

The Customer [A. Lloyd James:]: Can you recommend me some pipe tobacco?

The Shopkeeper [J. R. R. Tolkien]: Certainly, sir; mild, medium, or full strength?

ALJ: Oh! -- er -- medium, please.

JRRT: I have a very good mixture of my own; would you care to try it?

ALJ: How much is it?

JRRT: It's a shilling an ounce, sir, and very cheap at the price. I just keep it for my regular customers.

ALJ: Well, give me two ounces, please.

JRRT: Have you a pouch, sir, or shall I pack it up?

ALJ: Put one ounce in the pouch and pack the other . . . thank you.

JRRT: Anything further, sir?

ALJ: Yes, let me have a box of fifty cigarettes.

JRRT: Virginian or Turkish, sir?

ALJ: Turkish, please.

JRRT: Now, this is a very good cigarette, sir. I think you'll like it. Six shillings for fifty.

ALJ: All right, give me fifty. And let me have some matches, too.

JRRT: Yes, sir. One box?

ALJ: Yes, one box. How much is that altogether?

JRRT: Let me see, that's 2/- [two shillings], 8/- [eight shillings], 8/1d. [eight-and-a-penny] in all, sir . . . thank you, sir. Good morning.

At the Tobacconist, part one

So, here's the text for the first half of the first of Tolkien's two contributions to the Linguaphone Institute set of English language lessons from circa 1930. So far as I can tell, Tolkien is not the author of these lines; I suspect all thirty scripts were written by Prof. A. Lloyd James (Professor of Phonetics, Univ. of London), who seems to have supervised the entire project. However, James is careful to note in his Introduction to the accompanying booklet that the speakers had input and could add to or modify their parts, so there may be some genuine Tolkienian details or turns of phrase. Here's how James describes it (emphasis mine):

"This Linguaphone Course contains the language that educated people in England use to-day; and every effort had been made to ensure that the language shall be natural. None of the nine speakers has been asked to say anything that he or she would not or could not say in the circumstances; they have all been given an entirely free hand in emending their lines. We believe that as a result, students of English now have for the first time a course that is unique in that it embodies the actual living idiom spoken by educated English men and women of the early part of the twentieth century . . ."



Lesson Twenty: "At the Tobacconist"

PART I. DESCRIPTION.

If anybody were to ask me which shop-windows I found the most interesting in London, I should find it very hard to answer. My wife, I know, would be all in favour of the drapers, the milliners, and the jewellers. My eldest son would be all for the sports shops, with their golf clubs, tennis rackets, cricket bats, and footballs. The children would vote for the toy-shops -- and I -- well, I must confess to a weakness for the tobacconist's window.

Not that I smoke a lot, but there's something fascinating about seeing the neat little piles of different coloured tobaccos, the beautifully polished briar pipes, the attractive boxes of cigars and cigarettes. If you smoke a pipe, you have the choice of dozens of excellent brands of pipe tobacco; if you are fond of cigars, then you can get them at any price you care to pay; and if you prefer cigarettes, then you may have Virginian, Turkish, or Egyptian, whichever you like. Virginian cigarettes are, of course, those made of Amerian tobacco.

Matches are good and cheap, and you'll find all kinds of articles for smokers such as tobacco pouches, cigar and cigarette cases and holders, lighters, and so on, in every tobacconist's window. Many tobacconists, especially in the suburbs, are at the same time newsagents, stationers, and booksellers, so that you can also buy books, magazines, newspapers, picture postcards, and other stationary -- notepaper, envelopes, and so on.