Book VI, Chapter 8: The Scouring of the Shire
I'll mention in passing that I'm holding the last volume needed to round out my The Return of the King rotation -- which, yes, is a weird tic associated with the experience but you all seem willing to indulge it, anyway -- as I read the Scouring of the Shire in our Second American Edition copy. This is a section that historically was kind of divisive among Tolkien fans: my memory, at least, was that a bunch of us loved it and a bunch of us did not like it at all. Once Jackson’s films came out and excised the Scouring entirely, my sense is that new ranks have been drawn up, such that all the book-reading Tolkien fans are a little defensive of The Scouring (even folks who weren’t really on board before) as a section that deserved to be on the screen. When in that 4 hour movie it could have been managed is, I grant you, hard to answer. Anyway, this is the penultimate chapter, and it’s a strangely eventful one, given that the mood for the last few chapters has been very chill, so much so that the addition to the ROTK body count comes as a bit of a surprise.
I do love the opening, with Merry and Pippin, whose ent-draught imbibing has left them with ripped physiques resembling Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa, roid-raging their way over the gate at the Brandywine Bridge. Okay, maybe they don’t look like Ah-nold, but there’s definitely something intimidating about them, mailed and armed and taller than any hobbit these poor Shirriffs have ever seen. It’s fun to see them get to be the real heroes of the moment and not just ancillary to the heroism of more skilled and experienced warriors. They really are the two most qualified soldiers in the Shire by a huge margin, and no hobbit since Bandobras Took invented the game of golf with a goblin head (the Prologue is seriously wild, y’all) has really had their abilities to draw on. It’s fortunate they arrive when they do.
There’s no question, I think, that the bad version of the Shire they come home to is influenced by Tolkien’s own attitudes about the post-war world as an aging and relatively conservative Englishman -- life under the Chief’s rule feels very reminiscent of life behind what Churchill calls the Iron Curtain (probably right around the time Tolkien was working on this chapter), with food being gathered for alleged socialist purposes but then hoarded by the ruling class, poor quality food at these shoddily constructed common buildings, a massive secret police whose only function is to grab thought-criminals and throw them in the gulag, I mean the Lockholes, etc. This isn’t entirely a bad thing, since goodness knows those Communist countries were responsible for a lot of oppression and inhumanity and they merit criticism. But I do wish Tolkien had been more introspective, rather than basically presenting a view of the world in which the good-hearted English peasant will put things right as rain with a little charity for his neighbor. The Scouring could have presented a more nuanced view of political authority and freedom (and there is nuance here, of course), but it’s just not where he was going at that point. He needed a contrast between what he saw as the Shire at its idyllic best and what he thought threatened it -- and it certainly works as a reader. My sympathies were certainly never in doubt.
One of the great questions in The Scouring is whose approach to justice is the right one -- Merry (and Pippin, but back here in the Shire, Merry’s natural leadership qualities from early in Fellowship are ascendant again) and his belief in consequence and retribution, versus Frodo who seems to be articulating a position closer to restorative justice (there’s certainly a healthy dose of #AbolishThePolice isn’t there?). Merry and Pippin have been soldiers and for them the crisis of their time is maybe best understood as a war, but of course for Frodo the crisis is so different, and the lessons he’s learned have to do with pity and restraint and casting aside power rather than seizing it. This isn’t exactly a fair fight, though -- not as presented. Tolkien’s certainly got his thumb on the scale, since events keep forcing things into Merry’s hands -- Sharkey’s hired muscle (and ultimately Sharkey himself) refuses to accept the offer of mercy and freedom if they’ll just clear out, and Merry, Pippin, and their hobbit minutemen (minutehobbits?) are forced to resolve things using violence. But I think we have to credit him for at least giving Frodo a voice, just as he does with Eowyn -- he respects his characters’ inner life enough to let them speak even when he disagrees with them. Sure, he lets Merry get the better line in initially, with “you won’t rescue . . . the Shire just by being shocked and sad, my dear Frodo.” Frodo doesn’t really have a comeback there, and it does feel like his approach is untenable given the events that immediately follow. But what can Merry say that matches the remarkable inner strength of Frodo, immediately after Saruman’s attempt to stab him to death, insisting that no one kill Saruman, saying “he is fallen, and his cure is beyond us, but I would still spare him, in the hope that he may find it”? I mean, this is mercy and wisdom on a scale we have really only seen Gandalf operating. And it burns Saruman up, as he calls Frodo “wise and cruel” and laments that he is in debt to the hobbit’s mercy. Who knows what Saruman was capable of, in the long run? I wonder if Frodo doesn’t win the argument there -- though Grima’s violent outburst in response to the wizard’s abuse prevents us from ever learning if that’s true.
There’s a strange quality to the battles in The Scouring -- the movements of even small platoons of fighters on either side are described in some detail, and lists of casualties (generally with names) are kept meticulously. This is not at all like the level of detail we received even in much more momentous conflicts -- the battles on the Pelennor are not described like this. And I think this is very intentional, since it reminds us that the book we are reading has a narrative perspective: it’s a book produced by hobbits, and therefore the events close to home, in and out of the little hamlets and valleys they know, are kept in more meticulous memory. And the deaths are felt more keenly -- these are their cousins and friends falling bravely, and they will remember them.
I think one of the things that really cements the place of The Scouring in the memories and hearts of book readers is that the opening of Fellowship really immerses us in the Shire -- we know this landscape well. Jackson’s got to get moving once Frodo’s left Bag End, so the films necessarily fast-forward their way to Bree, but as readers we’ve gone up and down every slope, and we’ve certainly spent more time with old hobbits in taverns and dining rooms. So the punches land harder here than they otherwise would -- the digging up of Bagshot Row, the felling of the Party Tree (Sam’s reduced to tears there, and I am right there with him). Again, I get why Jackson doesn’t even attempt this -- it goes beyond the framework of his story, and anyway he doesn’t have time to tell this part of the narrative. But as a reader, I think this is so crucial for the reasons I’ve spoken about already -- there are so many payoffs here, as Tolkien considers how experience has shaped these small but resilient heroes, as he wrestles with the question of how to take back a lost home, and as he takes us into that space of grief for the lost Shire and then out of it as the hobbits resolve to rebuild.
Next post won’t be my very last -- I have Appendices and films to take in beyond it. But don’t think I won’t be a little choked up (and maybe you will too) as we come to The Grey Havens, the final chapter of Book VI and the story’s end.