There are a lot of similarities between Saruman and Sauron, which is certainly not a coincidence. Both were Maiar of Aulë, the craftsman of the Valar, and are great craftsmen in their own right. For both, their greatest power is the power of persuasion: there's a reason this chapter is titled “The Voice of Saruman.” In Sauron's case, his greatest power (since lost to him) was to appear wise and fair, which he used to trick the Elves into making the Rings of Power and to engineer the Downfall of Númenor. And then there's the similarity of their names, which I'm not prepared to call a coincidence. Tolkien always flatly disavowed any etymological connection between his languages and real-world ones (“Sauron” and the Greek “sauros,” meaning “lizard,” is the one most brought up) but he wasn't above tweaking things to make a point. It's not entirely a happy accident that one of the names for Downfallen Númenor, the powerful civilization grown decadent and sunk beneath the waves by the gods, is “Atalantë.” (To say nothing of the Elven city on the Lonely Isle that Men were able to distantly glimpse being called “Avallónë.)
In general, Tolkien does treat the power to persuade others to evil as being the greatest evil. Morgoth might be the nominal Big Bad, but his nihilistic desire to destroy the world was ultimately self-defeating. Sauron is in very many ways a more effective villain than his defeated and exiled boss. The Ring is such a great evil because it can counter the free will of others, and because it is an almost irresistible corrupting force. The most evil acts in Arda, the ones most vilified, are those embarked upon freely by the Children of Ilúvatar. No one forced Fëanor to swear his Oath, or forced Ar-Pharazôn to assault Valinor. They chose that themselves, and as a devout Catholic souls and free will were very important to Tolkien.
Compare how much time is spent on those actions, and the consequences that followed, when compared to something more straightforward in its power. Ancalagon the Black, for example: introduced and killed off over the space of a single paragraph.
It all puts me in mind of one moment in the Dresden Files, where the archangel Uriel takes what appears to be a terrible and unnecessary risk. Michael Carpenter, anguished, asks what is at stake to merit such an awful gambit, to which Uriel replies simply, “A soul.” And Michael goes, “Oh - all right then” and doesn't question any more. Tolkien would have understood that.
Moving off of theological and philosophical musings and into the chapter itself, the dialogue positively crackles with tension. First one character than another is the focus of Saruman’s attention, and there’s a moment when each seems to be persuaded, only for them to shake it off in one way or another. And every time, Saruman is angered and his control cracks. It’s all positively Shakespearean in the best way possible:
‘But my lord of Rohan, am I to be called a murderer, because valiant men have fallen in battle? If you go to war, needlessly, for I did not desire it, then men will be slain. But if I am a murderer on that account, then all the House of Eorl is stained with murder; for they have fought many wars, and assailed many who defied them. Yet with some they have afterwards made peace, none the worse for being politic. I say, Théoden King: shall we have peace and friendship, you and I? It is ours to command.’ ‘We will have peace,’ said Théoden at last thickly and with an effort. Several of the Riders cried out gladly. Théoden held up his hand. ‘Yes, we will have peace,’ he said, now in a clear voice, ‘we will have peace, when you and all your works have perished – and the works of your dark master to whom you would deliver us. You are a liar, Saruman, and a corrupter of men’s hearts. You hold out your hand to me, and I perceive only a finger of the claw of Mordor. Cruel and cold! Even if your war on me was just – as it was not, for were you ten times as wise you would have no right to rule me and mine for your own profit as you desired – even so, what will you say of your torches in Westfold and the children that lie dead there? And they hewed Háma’s body before the gates of the Hornburg, after he was dead. When you hang from a gibbet at your window for the sport of your own crows, I will have peace with you and Orthanc. So much for the House of Eorl. A lesser son of great sires am I, but I do not need to lick your fingers. Turn elsewhither. But I fear your voice has lost its charm.’ The Riders gazed up at Théoden like men startled out of a dream. Harsh as an old raven’s their master’s voice sounded in their ears after the music of Saruman. But Saruman for a while was beside himself with wrath. He leaned over the rail as if he would smite the King with his staff. To some suddenly it seemed that they saw a snake coiling itself to strike. ‘Gibbets and crows!’ he hissed, and they shuddered at the hideous change. ‘Dotard! What is the house of Eorl but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek, and their brats roll on the floor among the dogs? Too long have they escaped the gibbet themselves. But the noose comes, slow in the drawing, tight and hard in the end. Hang if you will!’
This scene was cut from the theatrical version of the films, which is an absolute crime. The late Sir Christopher Lee was very pissed off about that, and rightly so in my opinion. The scene was one of the most true-to-the-book, with much of the dialogue Tolkien wrote used verbatim, and that resonant voice of Christopher Lee’s was absolutely perfect for the scene. The way he went back and forth between warm and snarling was absolutely wonderful. Plus that scene (where they put the death of Saruman at the hand of Wormtongue) gave us the anecdote where Peter Jackson was directing Lee as to how to act when he gets stabbed, at which point Lee gave him a look and the World War II SAS veteran made very clear to Jackson that he knew perfectly well what happened when a man was stabbed in the back.
Tolkien is, as always, careful to make sure that everyone gets a chance at redemption, though of course Saruman doesn’t take it. And after giving him his fair chance, we see one of the most powerful moments Gandalf has in the entire series:
He turned and left the balcony. ‘Come back, Saruman!’ said Gandalf in a commanding voice. To the amazement of the others, Saruman turned again, and as if dragged against his will, he came slowly back to the iron rail, leaning on it, breathing hard. His face was lined and shrunken. His hand clutched his heavy black staff like a claw. ‘I did not give you leave to go,’ said Gandalf sternly. ‘I have not finished. You have become a fool, Saruman, and yet pitiable. You might still have turned away from folly and evil, and have been of service. But you choose to stay and gnaw the ends of your old plots. Stay then! But I warn you, you will not easily come out again. Not unless the dark hands of the East stretch out to take you. Saruman!’ he cried, and his voice grew in power and authority. ‘Behold, I am not Gandalf the Grey, whom you betrayed. I am Gandalf the White, who has returned from death. You have no colour now, and I cast you from the order and from the Council.’ He raised his hand, and spoke slowly in a clear cold voice. ‘Saruman, your staff is broken.’ There was a crack, and the staff split asunder in Saruman’s hand, and the head of it fell down at Gandalf’s feet. ‘Go!’ said Gandalf. With a cry Saruman fell back and crawled away.
And then Wormtongue, in all his wisdom, decides to use an immeasurably valuable artifact crafted by Fëanor himself as a blunt instrument. Apparently there wasn’t a rock, vase, jug, or ill-tempered cat he could have thrown out the window instead. They would have been equally effective for his intended purpose. No, he throws out the specific object that Saruman wanted to obtain when he first asked to dwell in Orthanc. So what is it and why is it important? Find out next time!
Next post, Pippin takes a look in the Palantír and once again shows how well he deserves the moniker “fool of a Took” when he ignores Gandalf’s wishes about as thoroughly as possible, which is never a good idea.