Reading "The Lord of the Rings:" "The Voice of Saruman"
In which Saruman tries to use his voice--his last remaining power--to stave off his inevitable defeat at Gandalf's hands.
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Welcome to Tolkien Tuesdays, where I talk about various things that I love about the lore and writings of Tolkien, whether in a chapter reading or a character study or an essay. I hope you enjoy reading these ruminations as much as I enjoy writing them and, if you have a moment, I’d love it if you’d subscribe to this newsletter. It’s free, but there are paid options, as well, if you’re of a mind to support a struggling writer. Either way, thank you for joining me!
I know I’m probably not supposed to feel this way, but part of me always looks forward to the chapters of The Lord of the Rings in which we get to meet one of the villains. Perhaps it’s my enduring fascination with villainy in general–which you are probably well aware of if you read this newsletter with any regularity–or perhaps it’s just the fact that Tolkien excelled at creating villains as fascinating as his heroes. Either way, I love “The Voice of Saruman,” in which Gandalf and the others finally get to confront the traitorous wizard in his lonely tower of Orthanc.
What’s immediately remarkable about this chapter is the extent to which Saruman–prideful as always–still seems to think that he has the power to get others to do his bidding. The frightening thing, of course, is that he’s right to believe this. As the narrator reminds us again and again throughout this chapter, those who have gathered to confront him are susceptible to his power. Though some are able to shake off his influence and to see it for the trickery and delusion that it is, we are informed that some were never entirely able to shake it, that it would become a toxic and noxious influence in their lives, forever urging them to do ill. This revelation more than any other helps us to make sense of just how influential Saruman was during the height of his power. If he can do this even when his might is overthrown, it’s no wonder he was able to blind the White Council to his true ambitions.
Given Tolkien’s own well-documented love of words, it’s fitting that Saruman’s remaining power is his voice. His mighty ambitions might be laid in ruins about him, but he still knows how to use words to manipulate and cajole others, at least if they are vulnerable to his influence. As Tom Shippey so powerfully reminds us, Saruman is in many ways the consummate politician and sophist, someone who is willing to stretch words to the utmost boundary of their true meaning if it means that he will get what he wants. Combined with his own comely appearance–”his face was long,” the narrator tells us, “with a high forehead, he had deep darkling eyes, hard to fathom, though the look that they now bore was grave and benevolent, and a little weary”--he truly is a formidable person even in his present state.
What’s more, he offers both Théoden and the others the softer part of his personality, having the gall to act as if he is the aggrieved party when he is the one who launched an attack on Rohan and its people (in that regard his comments reminded me of Vladimir Putin and his assault on Ukraine). He even offers a few kind words to Éomer and Gimli, even though both of them are much more hostile than Gandalf. He saves his harshest criticisms for the king, whom he tries to wound right where he is most vulnerable, deriding his lineage and suggesting (not without cause) that the Rohirrim are hardly ones to judge when it comes to imperialist violence. Fortunately Théoden is not so easily intimidated.
It’s fascinating to see how often the mask slips during this whole exchange. Saruman is the kind of person who can never quite shake the arrogance that has become such a key component of his personality; he is ultimately a true believer in his own greatness and superiority. What this means, of course, is that he never quite exerts the kind of spell that he clearly wants to, not even when he bends Gandalf to his will by appealing to his “reason.” Once again, though, the wily Saruman fundamentally misunderstands the nature of who he is dealing with, which helps to explain why he is so bitter, angry, and resentful toward Gandalf, who ultimately greets all of his cozening with the mockery that it deserves.
For his part, Gandalf at last has the chance to confront the man who not only betrayed the mission of their order but also imprisoned him on the pinnacle of Orthanc with the intention of surrendering him to Sauron himself. It’s immensely powerful and even thrilling to watch Gandalf at last come into his own, armed with the power that he has now been granted by Galadriel and presumably the other members of the White Council. When he casts Saruman out of the Order and breaks his staff, you can almost feel the enormous consequences that this entails for Middle-earth as a whole. Never again will Saruman be able to wield his influence though, as time will show, he has yet more poison to wield against those who have brought about his destruction.
Yet even though he has undoubtedly turned his powers to evil, Gandalf reminds us that there is much to mourn in Saruman’s fall from grace. After all, he was a being of considerable wisdom and skill, particularly when it comes to the making of the Rings of Power. Had he stayed on the path of goodness, he could have been of invaluable aid to Gandalf and the others. As it is, his name will always be associated with corruption and the demise of a great mind. As Gandalf says, “I grieve that so much that was good now festers in the tower.” It’s one of those moments that leads you to really grapple with what Saruman’s fall means to Gandalf on a personal level. After all, they were of the same order as both are Maiar; one can only imagine how much Gandalf’s heart must hurt at seeing what has become of one that he once called a friend and perhaps even a brother.
I’ve always thought that this whole sequence was one of the unfortunate casualties of Peter Jackson’s adaptations. It was originally cut from the theatrical release–much to Christopher Lee’s dismay–but the Extended Edition restores it, though in this case the whole confrontation takes place with Saruman standing (rather incongruously, I’ve always though) beneath the two horns at the top of Orthanc. It’s also more than a little garbled and excessive, with the fireball that Saruman hurls at Gandalf one of Jackson’s flourishes I could do without.
In the book, meanwhile, the chapter ends on a bit of a bittersweet note as Pippin and Merry at last bid farewell to Treebeard. You can’t help but feel a little sad that their time together has come to an end. One can sense the genuine fondness between the hobbits and the old Ent, the latter of whom even goes so far as to add the hobbits into the list of the races. It’s a charming way to end a chapter, even if it is yet another poignant farewell.