Lord of the Rings Fanatics Plaza

This thread arises out of my impertinent criticism of the proper name ‘Bertrand Russell’ in @Romeran's (old) signature. That felt like breaking a taboo, akin to criticizing someone’s tattoo, so I try to make amends with a thread for Romeran that broaches that most abstruse theme in Tolkien studies, the mystery of names. In this post I sketch three theories of a proper name that have been or may be attributed to Tolkien.

1. An unmeaning mark

A proper name is but an unmeaning mark which we connect in our minds with the idea of the object, in order that whenever the mark meets our eyes or occurs to our thoughts, we may think of that individual object. (John Stuart Mill, System of Logic, 1843).

So, for example, ‘rose’ as a common name means a kind of flower, but ‘Rose’ as the proper name of someone does not mean anything – it merely serves as an unmeaning mark by which we distinguish this person in thought or conversation.

2. Disguised meaning
In the early 20th century, Bertrand Russell argued that proper names (as we use them) are really meaningful descriptions in disguise. Here is a passage from his second 1918 lecture on logical atomism:

… it does seem a little odd if, having made a dot on the blackboard, I call it ‘John’. You would be surprised, and yet how are you to know otherwise what it is that I am speaking of? … if I wanted to talk about it tomorrow it would be convenient to have christened it and called it ‘John’. There is no other way in which you can mention it. You cannot really mention it itself except by means of a name.

What pass for names in language, like ‘Socrates’, ‘Plato’, and so forth, were originally intended to fulfil this function of standing for particulars, and we do accept in ordinary daily life as particulars all sorts of things that really are not so… A name, in the narrow logical sense of a word whose meaning is a particular, can only be applied to a particular with which the speaker is acquainted, because you cannot name anything you are not acquainted with. You remember, when Adam named the beasts, they came before him one by one, and he became acquainted with them and named them. We are not acquainted with Socrates, and therefore cannot name him. When we use the word ‘Socrates,’ we are really using a description. Our thought may be rendered by some such phrase as, ‘The Master of Plato,’ or ‘The philosopher who drank the hemlock,’ or ‘The person whom logicians assert to be mortal,’ but we certainly do not use the name as a name in the proper sense of the word.

If you accept the (odd) notion that you cannot name that which you are not acquainted with, then when you use a proper name like ‘Gandalf’ you are really giving a disguised description – that description serving to identify the individual you are referring to.

3. The essence of an individual
This is what I call the Earthsea or LeGuin theory, although its roots are obviously very ancient. The idea is that knowledge of the ‘true name’ captures the essence of the named and gives power over it. This was not a theory of names advanced by 19th and 20th century philosophers and linguists.

After long years of struggle and brain ache I have come to the conclusion that Tolkien held the first theory, that of Mill (though he found Mill’s surrounding explanation preposterous and ‘corrected’ it in The Hobbit). This is to depart from older readings of Tolkien, or at least from the old plaza readings that may be read in that amazing and wonderful thread, Peeling the Onion. On this thread what I find is a curious stepping from theory 2 to theory 3.

In order to appreciate this step, it is helpful to observe how Russell’s theory was developed by the great Danish grammarian Otto Jespersen in his Philosophy of Grammar (1924):

The first time you hear of a person or read his name in a newspaper, he is ‘a mere name’ to you, but the more you hear and see of him the more will the name mean to you. Observe also the way in which your familiarity with a person in a novel grows the farther you read… The meaning or connotation grows along with the growth of your knowledge. (Philosophy of Grammar, 1924, p. 64)

Russell argued that a proper name is really a disguised description. But which description? Russell said it did not matter, so long as it established a unique reference (e.g. the hobbit who found the magic ring). Jespersen takes the obvious step of suggesting that a proper name means all the descriptions known to the speaker/hearer.

If all this seems overly abstract, consider Bilbo’s riddling of his name with Smaug: in place of the requested name he provides a series of descriptions of himself. Jespersen implies that a complete list of all the descriptions of Bilbo found in The Hobbit would exhaust the meaning of the proper name ‘Bilbo Baggins’ (at least until the sequel appeared).

So far as I can make out, Jespersen’s notion of a proper name is close to that given by Mireth Guilbain in the old plaza thread The Naming of Sauron:

Who are you, alone, yourself and nameless? I read this as an affirmation that the name by which an individual is called is reflective and indicative of the individual’s personal nature. That there is no way to answer ‘Who are you?’ with anything other than a name, and therefore the name you supply in response is a summation of everything that makes you ‘you’. (Quoted by halfir in ‘Peeling the Onion’)

So here we have a Tolkien reading that has its roots in Russell’s account of proper names. But observe the movement from ‘all that is known’ to ‘everything that makes you ‘you’. Here is how one steps from theory 2 to theory 3. ‘Peeling the Onion’ again:

In a recent post in Al (What is a symbol?) gerontian wrote: ‘I am not aware of any symbol… which can claim to represent the totality of its subject, except, perhaps, a proper name.

The step to theory 3 is taken explicitly by halfir himself, who introduces the term essence and brings up the ‘ancient myth’ that a name captures the essence of a thing. In relation to the hobbits’ lost ponies, who answer to the new names given by Bombadil for the rest of their lives, halfir concludes that Tom Bombadil is a “name-maker”, whose names are in the original language – the “true language” – and hence capture the essence of what is named.

To conclude this TLDR post, I do not agree with this reading of Tom Bombadil. But I do not think that halfir’s mistake is stepping from theory 2 to theory 3. Rather, the mistake is dismissing theory 1, which on the surface appears less exciting than the other two theories of a proper name, but is in reality not only the correct account but also (and perhaps for this reason) far more interesting.

I will hopefully give a proper reply to this fascinating topic when I have more time over the weekend. But for the time being, anytime we talk about names and naming in Tolkien, a few examples come to mind.

First Treebeard telling the hobbits he can't give them his name in Entish, for it would be too long:

'For I am not going you my name, not yet at any rate...For one thing it would take a long while: my name is growing all the time, and I've lived a very long, long time; so my name is like a story. Real names tell you the story of the things they belong to in my language, in the Old Entish as you might say.' (The Two Towers: Treebeard)

So here, Treebeard would be his disguised name, but his proper name in Old Entish he won't give. Because it "would take a very long time to say." In Old Entish, Treebeard's proper name would be like a story, constantly growing.

The other is the Ringwraiths. They are specifically not given proper names, because they have lost their identities. The loss of individual identity is a loss of their free will. They are nameless servants to the One. Even the 2 "named" wraiths aren't proper names. Witch-King is a title, and Khamul is most likely as well, if I can recall correctly, translates to "East Shadow."

Thanks @Chrysophylax Dives for this! What a thoroughly interesting subject. This weekend I'll have more time to post and read more lengthily but I did have one question which I was curious to get yours (and others) thoughts on.

So far we have a few theories: the unmeaning mark, the disguised meaning, and the essence. But what about names with translated meaning?

Some names have explicit meanings, Fëanor means spirit of fire, Ered Gorgoroth are the "Mountains of Terror" or Ered Luin are the "Blue Mountains" (what makes them blue? I wonder, perhaps an archaic version of the word 'blue' as in Dwalin's beard "It was a dwarf with a blue beard tucked into a golden belt").

Some names can also have meaning but the meaning of those names and the association with that person is ironic for example Bjarni Brodd-Helgason who recieved the (ironic) nickname Víga-Bjarni ("Killer-Barney") Michael Drout points out how this ends up skewing the representation of Bjarni in later stories as the authors are familiar with his name but not his tale (and so in later tales he becomes a blood-loving death-machine (as Michael Drout puts it)).

So where does names which have real meaning (translations) come in? A lot of proper names also have meanings by translation, Michael means "gift of god" and Gabriel means "hero of god" but despite Michael being one of my middle names I'd hardly consider that meaning relevant to me

We're skipping over the meat here, aren't we? Elsewhere you have stated:

My problem with Russell is autobiographical: four years ago I concluded that Tolkien had adopted Russell's theory of proper names and that this was a key to The Hobbit. [...] Since then I've been turning inside out and upside down my earlier thinking on The Hobbit - and am now convinced I am on the right track. In other words, Tolkien was aware of Russell's theory but rather than adopting it he plays with it while showing you the correct notion of a proper name.

You seem to be seeking validation of a personally-held conviction through asserting that Tolkien held it. What you've done here is provide some philosophical arguments from people who aren't Tolkien about a subject in general and some quotes from ten or more? years ago from arbitrary people asserting specific readings, while you call their positions a 'mistake' and assert your own.

Whence "the conclusion that Tolkien held the first theory"? Why does your path to your opinion inexorably pull Tolkien along with it? If you had made this thread four years ago, would the only difference in presentation be the shuffling around of the order of ideas and a change in which were deemed wise or mistaken? Conclusions typically come from something substantive.

Don't knock a vegetarian diet, it is said to be good for cholic. @Boromir88, the two instances you give are both very much to the point - and I'm grateful for the info that Khamul is a title, i did not know that and have found it strange that this wraith had a proper name. Old Entish seems to me a language that dispenses with proper names as we know them and relies instead on stringing together descriptive titles (making a story).

Incidentally, a title is a definite description. Its worth bearing in mind that while the philosophers talk about proper names and definite descriptions, as a philologist Tolkien would have put the matter more likely in terms of proper names and titles. But before entering into what Tolkien has to say about this relationship, I want to clarify what I said above about these theories of names and meaning.

Aiks and Romeran refer in different ways to the meaning of a proper name considered simply as a common name (Fëanor means ‘spirit of fire,’ for example). Obviously, there is much of this in Tolkien's stories, as indeed in many stories, where a proper name often serves as a clue of some kind to the character. And having by now (jointly) named five children, I am aware of the importance of the meaning of a word that is given as a name to someone.

John Stuart Mill does not deny that names may begin as descriptions. His example is the town of Dartmouth, so called because it is where the river Dart reaches the sea. But if the sands shifted and the course of the river changed, says Mill, the town would still be named Dartmouth. In other words, when a common name (or combination of them) is given as a proper name then, when used as a proper name, it has no meaning.

Russell’s position is the same, except that the meaning of the proper name is a description of something known about the individual. So if you had a person named Bad, who was known only as the most virtuous person around, then (according to Russell) when someone says the proper name Bad what is meant is ‘the most virtuous person around’. In other words, the meaning that Russell finds in a proper name has no relationship to the ordinary meaning of that name used as a common name. The old song has:

There's a sign on the wall, but she wants to be sure
'Cause you know sometimes words have two meanings.

That fits Russell, but for Mill the second line would be ‘words have two uses’. As a matter of fact, I came to understand this point by way of the Doors of Durin:

Speak friend and enter.

Gandalf first reads ‘friend’ as a common name, and the sentence has one meaning. Then he understands that ‘friend’ is the password, and the sentence has another meaning while ‘friend’ itself has none – it is simply a key. In just the same way, sesame in Open sesame! does not mean a type of grain, it is a password or key.

Friend and sesame work here in the same way that Mill says a proper name works: so used these words have no meaning; rather they serve as a key that opens the door to meaning.

There is no person in the world who interprete a matter like a proper name in the same sense. I have long Dutch education behind me from a particular that influenced my thinking in the basics and twentyfive years later enriched it with more non school materials. My proper reference name was more directed at the individual and not an object. Romeran has another viewpoint, which is interesting me as it broadens the referential frame I writing from. He points out on three theories I hadn't thought of yet.

Chrys Dives posted: John Stuart Mill does not deny that names may begin as descriptions. His example is the town of Dartmouth, so called because it is where the river Dart reaches the sea. But if the sands shifted and the course of the river changed, says Mill, the town would still be named Dartmouth. In other words, when a common name (or combination of them) is given as a proper name then, when used as a proper name, it has no meaning.

I won't be agreeing entirely with this for this reason, the name gets a historical meaning when environment change and the name doesn't directly apply anymore in the sense of the meaning. It is still a proper name from a historical sense. This you find with old street names too, once they applied to a situation then actual. But over the many decades functions change, business vanish and building are torn down replace often for new ones. But the street stays, with the old name. And years later people ask, why is this street called so and so? The collective memory is it a bit forgotten, but the name points to what once there. For example we have this cute little street and I like to share.

In the Dordrecht mysteries section we deal with a separate or strange fact from the city every week; how did Dordrecht become an island or why are people of Dordrecht also called Sheep Heads? This week: how the Blindeliedengasthuissteeg got its name. De Blindeliedengasthuissteeg, try to pronounce it fluently a few times in succession. We wondered where that name actually came from. You get quite far if you divide it up: blind people guest house alley. Think for a moment: was there a guest house for blind people? “That's right”, Pieter Breeman tells us. The former employee of the Dordrechts Archive delved into history for us and came up with the redeeming answer. “There was a guest house for the blind and the lame. We estimate that it was built around 1300AD and we know that it was demolished in 1629AD. Only the chapel remained and that is now the Trinity Chapel.” The guest house was attached to the Lutheran church and that was logical at the time, Pieter knows. “The church paid for the care of the blind and crippled. That's why everyone was a member of the Church at that time.” Evangelical Lutheran church in the Blindeliedengasthuissteeg is on the corner of the Vriesestraat. Care for the blind and the crippled? What should we imagine? Pieter: “Actually, that was no more than a bed and some warmth. Medicines were not really there yet and these patients did not need them. They could not work and that is why they were taken care of in this guest house.”

On the Gandalf reference to 'speak friend and enter', friend is a word, refers to the person who reads it, or that is the first meaning of the word. But if you put the emphasis on spéak, you can use also say, then the friend changes into a password and Moria is opening to enter. It is a fairly simple riddle, of what is 'hiding in plain sight'. The Sindarin words in the elven fonts is the other clue in what kind of language the answer had to be provided in.

"Ennyn Durin Aran Moria. Pedo Mellon a Minno. Im Narvi hain echant. Celebrimbor o Eregion teithant i thiw hin."
"The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter. I, Narvi, made them. Celebrimbor of Hollin drew these signs."

I agree, friend use is just being a key, not more. But because of it simplicity you get the idea it is extremely difficult, because a lot of information is shared in four lines. It is one of the twists Tolkien wrote so very well I feel. And what was so nice to work out from Legolas' perspective when I worked that part of the journey to Mordor.

Aikári Salmarinian wrote: ↑Sat Mar 12, 2022 2:55 pm
I agree, friend use is just being a key, not more. But because of it simplicity you get the idea it is extremely difficult, because a lot of information is shared in four lines. It is one of the twists Tolkien wrote so very well I feel. And what was so nice to work out from Legolas' perspective when I worked that part of the journey to Mordor.

Good point about the Doors of Durin. Gandalf and Gimli are living in different times. They mention living in these suspicious times, so believe the door was meant to be kept secret. If you are a "friend" you were told the password and know it:

"What does it mean by speak, friend, and enter?" asked Merry.
"That is plain enough' said Gimli. "If you are a friend, speak the password, and the doors will open, and you can enter."
"Yes,' said Gandalf, 'these doors are probably governed by words. Some dwarf-gates will open only at special times, or for particular persons; and some have locks and keys that are still needed when all necessary times and words are known. These doors have no key. In the days of Durin they were not secret. They usually stood open and doorwards sat here. But if they were shut, any who knew the opening word could speak it and pass in. At least so it is recorded, is it not, Gimli?'
'It is," said the dwarf, 'But what the word was is not remembered. Narvi and his craft and all his kindred have vanished from the earth." (Fellowship of the Ring: A Journey in the Dark)

Bolding my emphasis. Gandalf and Gimli don't piece together the significance of knowing "In the days of Durin they were not secret." Not at first, they originally translate it through their suspicious lenses, "the doors are secret and only open for a friend who was told the password." It isn't until later Gandalf realizes the significance that the doors were created in a time of friendship between Narvi and Celebrimbor, how simple the answer is:

"I was wrong after all," said Gandalf, "and Gimli too. Merry, of all people, was on the right track. The opening word was inscribed on the archway all the time! The translation should have been: Say, "Friend" and enter. I had only to speak the Elvish word for friend and the doors opened. Quite simple. Too simple for a learned loremaster in these suspicious days. Those were happier times. Now let us go!"

Boromir: Indeed. You interpreted it rightly with Gandalf and Gimli, as this is what I got too reading the passage just. I had this (fanfic!) view of Legolas upon it. But kept true as much possible to the story, even it is not fully. I am working on it to repost it all, but as it is about 84 chapters altogether, it will take some time. This is a little snapshot how I think he would view it. As you have emphasised some words, I will tweak the scene bit better later on. Thanks for completing more my personal view on this.

(Neither Gimli or I did help and we rather had more interest in the hidden doors, or so I pretended. Instead I searched my spot under one of the trees and remained there, watching the surroundings in the dark. When the moon broke through, the doors appeared.
“There are the emblems of Durin!” called Gimli in awe.
“And there is the tree of the high elves,” I said indentifying what I saw.
The elvish on the bow I read easily, but I didn’t say. The words were written in Sindarin: "Ennyn Durin Aran Moria. Pedo Mellon a Minno. Im Narvi hain echant. Celebrimbor o Eregion teithant i thiw hin." Or translated: "The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter. I, Narvi, made them. Celebrimbor of Hollin drew these signs." The word for friend was Mellon, even in Leikvian. The answer was literally on the door. Celebrimbor was an elf of the Noldor I knew, one of the greatest smiths in Middle Earth. In Imladris I had overheard other elves discussing this character from memory. He had been a part of the Gwaith-I-Mirdain, in the Second Age. A place where a guest of my father, Quennar Tarcelmë, had been part off as well. Eregion had been a thriving land until it was destroyed in war against the forces of Sauron. Boromir and Pippin were the voices of doubt and unbelieve. I knew Aragorn spoke and read Sindarin also, but perhaps he could not read the script above the door. I broke cover from under the tree, when Mithrandir remembered the word for friend and the doors opened. Either Gimli and I were the first to walk through them. The dwarf was thrilled, but I found it not sensible to enter the complex alone.)

Sorry this is a bit off topic.

Aikári Salmarinian wrote: ↑Sat Mar 12, 2022 10:11 pm Sorry this is a bit off topic.

:) It would not matter if it was, but all perspectives on the Doors of Durin are helpful in this matter, or so it seems to me. This scene is one of the few places in LOTR where Tolkien's ideas about language as it were rise to the surface of the story. The Blindeliedengasthuissteeg etymology is also to the point (beautiful photo!). As a philologist Tolkien was more aware than most of the old and ancient meanings contained in names that we still use, though the meanings have long been forgotten.

I have not made any argument as yet that Tolkien held either to the theory of Mill or Russell, and perhaps he held neither. But I say again that if we established that he held either it would not negate the personal interpretations nor the etymologies of proper names. It is rather that we discover another trick up his sleeve, that is, another dimension of the craft by which this master storyteller plays with names.

But in The Hobbit engagement with the mystery of names is much more overt. This is not surprising as the story is said to have begun with a common name - hobbit - the meaning of which Tolkien worked out by his story. Proper names are not the primary concern here, but rather common names and - especially - combinations of common names (Good morning, magic ring, nameless thief, and so on) - titled 'fairy elements' in the essay On Fairy-stories. But the matter of proper names is related to these wider linguistic issues concerning names.

The issue between the theories of Mill and Russell boils down to the relationship between a proper name and the descriptive meaning we associate with the individual named. Russell says that the proper name means these descriptions while Mill holds that the proper name means nothing but provides a key that (as it were) opens a door in our mind to where these descriptions are stored in memory.

Tolkien, it seems to me, saw that the relationship is analogous to a riddle, which works the other way round (only, usually, with a common name rather than a proper name as an answer): on the one side we have a string of descriptive titles and on the other a name. The question being: do the titles (the riddle) provide a key to the name or do they mean the name?

We may consider this question in relation to part of the conversation one Tuesday morning long ago. After the wizard tells the hobbit "Gandalf means me!" cogs turns in the brain of the hobbit, who then declares (I alter slightly so we get what Russell would hold as definite descriptions):

The wandering wizard that gave Old Took a pair of magic diamond studs that fastened themselves and never came undone till ordered.

The fellow who used to tell such wonderful tales at parties, about dragons and goblins and giants and the rescue of princesses and the unexpected luck of widows’ sons.

The man that used to make such particularly excellent fireworks.

The Gandalf who was responsible for so many quiet lads and lasses going off into the Blue for mad adventures, anything from climbing trees to stowing away aboard the ships that sail to the Other Side.

Gandalf has already introduced the word 'meaning' and the question here is: is Bilbo stating what the name 'Gandalf' means to him, or is it that the name 'Gandalf' has worked as a key, opening up a dusty chamber of childhood memories, where these descriptions are found behind a door marked 'Gandalf'?

I'm not saying that answering this question is necessary to appreciating the story. I'm trying to point out that Tolkien is here playing with the philosophical theories.

Logic, I should maintain, must no more admit a unicorn than zoology can: for logic is concerned with the real world just as truly as zoology, though with its more abstract and general features.

Bertrand Russell. Introduction to Mathematical Philosophy, London: Allen & Unwin, 1920 [1919], p. 209.

So, the realms of Arda are sundered from the discourse of logic. If you talk about hobbits the logicians will not admit you to their company. You must put away the sword of Gondor when you enter the realm of philosophical analysis. Logic will not admit discussion of an elf.

Gandalf will not figure in a philosophical example.

Yet in his London lectures of 1918, Russell had asserted that we cannot name what we are not acquainted with, referencing Adam in the Garden of Eden naming the animals – as if that analogy helped us understand the point! A model for the modern discipline of analytical philosophy, Russell had a taste for paradox, and seemed to relish the fact that nobody could understand what he was talking about.

And surely the point is to understand the issue under discussion, in this case names? Russell’s authority has contributed to the fact that this rarely happens. But to those who wish to understand the mystery of names, I would suggest starting with The Hobbit.

Just for example, recall Russell’s rather obscure point that acquaintanceship is a condition of naming. On thinking about this, it may help to consider Smaug, who has never smelled hobbit before, and indeed has a problem of naming.

But the point is much better appreciated if we step from Russell to John Stuart Mill. Recall that Mill defined a proper name as a meaningless mark. However, he makes a classic confusion by providing an analogy for a proper name in the form of a chalk mark on a door (wrongheaded because a name is first and foremost a sound – it is an illusion of print culture that a name is a visual mark). The result is the most confused paragraph I have ever read – it is truly astonishing how confused it is! But i never found one philosopher commenting on Mill who saw this. In the end, it took until one Wednesday Tea-time to draw the analogy properly.

• (I pass over the fact that the meaningless ring of the bell prompts Bilbo to think 'Gandalf') and jump to Bilbo opening the door on:
  
  A dwarf with a blue beard tucked into a golden belt and very bright eyes under his dark green hood.
  
  The dwarf introduces himself as Dwalin.
  
  The bell rings again, and Bilbo opens the door to a dwarf with a scarlet hood and a white beard.
  
  This dwarf introduces himself as Balin.
  
  But on the third ring of the bell, the door opens to two dwarves, both with blue hoods, silver belts, and yellow beards, and each carrying a bag of tools and a spade.
  
  One introduces himself as Kili, and the other as Fili.

This is so much more illuminating than anything Mill or Russell have to say! When Mill says that ‘a proper name is a meaningless mark that distinguishes an individual’ we might nod, but as likely not really get what he is saying. And when he proceeds with an analogy in which a proper name is compared to a visual mark we come away hopelessly confused – and likely feeling stupid.

With this series of dwarf visitors, by contrast, Tolkien shows us precisely how a proper name might be like and yet unlike a distinguishing visual mark. A proper name, we begin to understand, is a distinguishing mark like the colour of the beard and of the hood. And yet, a proper name is quite unlike a beard or hood because, except in the moment of uttering, it is (as it were) invisible; and what is more, if Bilbo is looking at the two brothers and does not know who is who, he can always shout ‘Yo! Kili’ and mark which one turns round – you cannot do that with a hood or beard!

And then we may step back and recall the incident when the wizard gave his name to The Hobbit on the day before, which - as i pointed out above - neatly frames the philosophical issue between Mill and Russell: does ‘Gandalf’ mean the definite descriptions that Bilbo then utters, or was the proper name a key to his memory?

And this is only the first few pages of The Hobbit…

Chrys: I see it from an evolutionary, analytical point of view. As you are using the Dwarves from the Hobbit.

Bilbo opening the door:
A dwarf with a blue beard tucked into a golden belt and very bright eyes under his dark green hood. (independent description of the character)
The dwarf introduces himself as Dwalin. (independent name introduction)

And here we have Dwarf number 1. I know something of what he looks like, and I know something of his personality by his name. And from there all thirteen Dwarves are introduced. The number of Dwarves rises until Thorin's Company is complete. For me the description I switch, it is central the proper name and wrapped around an explanation of the clothes. I should hear first "Dwalin!" and then really see who is before my door. Sort of building up with the text, what you have to know about the person before the door.

Bilbo is 'counting'....

The poor little hobbit sat down in the hall and put his head in his hands, and wondered what had happened, and what was going to happen, and whether they would all stay to supper. Then the bell rang again louder than ever, and he had to run to the door. It was not four after all, it was FIVE. (Hobbit, Unexpected Party)

If you are an experienced reader, you'll find yourself often not reading chronologically. Or at least what I find myself often in.

I'm still trying to process the opinions and differences between Russell and Mill, but the mention of proper names and meaningless marks, jogged my memory...what about the "mark" Gandalf left on Bilbo's door, that told Thorin's company, this was the "right" hobbit hole?

"Pardon me," he said. "if I have overheard words that you were saying. I don't pretend to understand what you are talking about, or your reference to burglars, but I think I am right in believing" (this is what he called being on his dignity) "that you think I am no good. I will show you. I have no signs on my door - it was painted a week ago -, and I am quite sure you have come to the wrong house. As soon as I saw your funny faces on the door-step, I had my doubts. But treat it as the right one. Tell me what you want done, and I will try it, if I have to walk from here to the East of East and fight the wild Were-worms in the Last Desert. I had a great-great-great-grand-uncle once, Bullroarer Took, and -"

"Yes, yes, but that was long ago," said Gloin. "I was talking about you. And I assure you there is a mark on this door - the usual one in the trade, or used to be. Burglar wants a good job, plenty of Excitement and reasonable Reward, that's how it is usually read. You can say Expert Treasure-hunter instead of Burglar if you like. Some of them do. It's all the same to us. Gandalf told us that there was a man of the sort in these parts looking for a Job at once, and that he had arranged for a meeting here this Wednesday tea-time." (The Hobbit: An Unexpected Party)

I never quite appreciated how much is going on in this conversation until now. I'm still not quite sure how it all fits in, but pointing it out because I'm interested to understand more...

-Gandalf leaves a mark on Bilbo's door that tells the dwarves where to meet
-Gloin tells the reader this mark means there's a "Burglar for hire" (or "that's how it is usually read"). If Bilbo is offended by the word "Burglar" then he could read the mark as "Expert Treasure-hunter" if he prefers.
-Bilbo also tries to make his case that the dwarves are wrong to think he is "no good." Part of his case is naming his relative "Bullroarer Took." Gloin counters that is irrelevant because "I was talking about you" [Bilbo Baggins]

Then Gandalf ends the argument:

"Of course there is a mark," said Gandalf. "I put it there myself. For very good reasons. You asked me to find the fourteenth man for your expedition, and I chose Mr. Baggins. Just let any one say I chose the wrong man or the wrong house, and you can stop at thirteen and have all the bad luck you like, or go back to digging coal."
He scowled so angrily at Gloin that the dwarf huddled back in his chair; and when Bilbo tried to open his mouth to ask a question, he turned and frowned at him and stuck out his bushy eyebrows, till Bilbo shut his mouth tight with a snap. "That's right," said Gandalf. "Let's have no more argument. I have chosen Mr. Baggins and that ought to be enough for all of you. If I say he is a Burglar, a Burglar he is, or will be when the time comes. There is a lot more in him than you guess, and a deal more than he has any idea of himself. You may (possibly) all live to thank me yet. Now Bilbo, my boy, fetch the lamp, and let's have a little light on this."
(Bolding my emphasis). The chapters that follow are very much Bilbo becoming a burglar "when the time comes." He fails against the trolls, is labeled "Thief" by Gollum, and steals the Arkenstone from Smaug (that he keeps from Thorin and claims the Arkenstone as his part of the treasure).

@Boromir88 come to my arms! Yes. This is the way it goes...

Just for now, a snipe at the movies. Not only does Gandalf put the Gandalf rune on the door but Thorin then says that were it not for the mark he would never found the place.

Now, whatever Gandalf's queer sign meant, one thing that is certain is that it was not to identify the hobbit-hole. The illustration of The Hill at the start of the story makes this quite clear. Directions to Bag-end from the Mill: 'just follow the road to the end, it is the last hobbit hole'. And just to underline the point: 'It is the only hobbit hole in the neighbourhood that has a green front door.'

Peter Jackson just walks past all of this.

Chrysophylax Dives wrote: ↑Sun Mar 20, 2022 3:11 pm @Boromir88 come to my arms! Yes. This is the way it goes...

Just for now, a snipe at the movies. Not only does Gandalf put the Gandalf rune on the door but Thorin then says that were it not for the mark he would never found the place.

Now, whatever Gandalf's queer sign meant, one thing that is certain is that it was not to identify the hobbit-hole. The illustration of The Hill at the start of the story makes this quite clear. Directions to Bag-end from the Mill: 'just follow the road to the end, it is the last hobbit hole'. And just to underline the point: 'It is the only hobbit hole in the neighbourhood that has a green front door.'

Peter Jackson just walks past all of this.

Good point! I stand corrected about it was not marked by Gandalf so the dwarves knew Bag End was the right hobbit-hole. Bilbo's door was marked to identify that he was the Burglar, the 14th member of the company. Another "identifying name" in this first chapter is "grocer," when Gloin uses the word as an insult:

"As soon as I clapped eyes on the little fellow bobbing and puffing on the mat, I had my doubts. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar!"

So, we have different identifying names for Bilbo, "the grocer" or "the burglar." (tying in also the interal battle between Bilbo's "Baggins-half" and "Took-half.") Baggins is "the grocer." At the start of the journey the dwarves ignore Bilbo, he's just baggage. And at one point they literally carry him around where Bilbo remarks makes him feel like baggage. Then the Took half - "the Burglar," with the past tense of the verb "take" being the last name of his mother's side of the family. This is too much to be mere coincidence.