Renaissance Heroes: From Saint to Sinner in British Literature Kayla Darling Independent Study April 20, 2016 Advisor, Todd Preston
Renaissance Heroes: From Saint to Sinner in British Literature
Kayla Darling
Independent Study
April 20, 2016
Advisor, Todd Preston
2
The concept of the ‘hero’ has altered throughout the years, constantly changing based on
the attitudes of the time. There is the ‘epic hero,’ a character such as Odysseus or Beowulf, who
populated ancient epic poetry; the Christian hero, who upheld traditional Christian ideals and
who took more inspiration from Christ than from the warriors previously looked to for examples
and guides; the classical anti-hero, designed to have traits opposite to those that were typically
considered ‘heroic’; the everyman, who is an average person thrown into a difficult situation;
and others. Many have tried their hands at creating a definitive definition of the hero. Of them,
Joseph Campbell is one of the more well-known, and in his work The Hero with a Thousand
Faces examines the concept of the hero under two main headings: “The Adventure of the Hero”
and “The Cosmogonic Cycle.” The first section focuses, as the title would suggest, on the hero’s
journey, detailing the various ways in which the hero was actually called to go on his or her
journey, the trials he or she would experience, and then the end of the quest. This journey
typically involved magic of some sort; Campbell even has sections labeled as “Supernatural Aid”
and “The Magic Flight.”
In the second section, while Campbell is making connections between psychology and
the heroic journey, he is also illustrating some of the more common tropes of the heroic in
literature and myth, specifically under “Transformations of the Hero,” which lists the various
things a hero may be: a warrior, a lover, an emperor or tyrant, a redeemer, or a saint. These
aspects often relate to the hero’s journey, and what a hero needs or what he will become as the
journey continues. Throughout these transformations, a common theme that appears is
submission to a higher power, or humility. Campbell refers to one without humility as a tyrant
or ogre, the opposite of the hero, and states, “He is proud, because he thinks of his strength as his
own; thus he is in the clown role” (337). The hero as a powerful fighter is another theme that
3
runs throughout the chapters, whether under the specific heading “the hero as warrior” or the
described “hero of action” describing a hero as either an emperor or tyrant (345). This prowess
is even apparent in the hero’s role as a lover, as Campbell states, “The motif of the difficult task
as prerequisite to the bridal bed has spun the hero-deeds of all time and all the world” (344).
Altogether, the three themes that emerge as the most relevant to examining the role of the hero
are warrior prowess, humility, and supernatural aid.
Heroes in English Renaissance literature follow Campbell’s basic model—they exhibit
warrior prowess and humility, and are aided by the supernatural—but these aspects are twisted in
response to the political situations surrounding their creation. In particular, Edmund Spencer’s
The Faerie Queene, William Shakespeare’s Macbeth, and John Milton’s Paradise Lost are
informed by political context. These works span the English Renaissance, as well as the rules of
Elizabeth, James, and Charles. The aspects of warrior prowess, humility, and supernatural aid
directly affect the shape of these literary heroes, falling from the more heroic Redcrosse Knight
to the anti-hero Macbeth to the villainous Satan as the Renaissance progresses, ultimately
mapping the country’s slow loss of stability from Elizabeth to Charles onto the decline of the
heroic character in literature.
Heroes, in most iterations, are considered to be powerful warriors, many spending a
significant amount of their stories winning great renown through feats of strength. According
the Campbell, “the sword edge of the hero-warrior flashes with the energy of the creative
Source” (337). A hero, as a warrior, is a “shining hero going against the dragon” and is an
individual who has enough power to break the status-quo: “With a gesture as simple as the
pressing of a button, he annihilates the impressive configuration” (340-41, 337). However, this
prowess, per se, can be twisted to serve a darker function, such as that of the tyrant: “The hero of
4
yesterday becomes the tyrant of tomorrow, unless he crucifies himself today” (353). As such, it
is possible for a hero to degrade, from one who seeks to fight for what is good to one who fights
only for his own gain. This degradation is seen in iconic Renaissance literary characters,
beginning with the Redcrosse Knight, who, while showing some examples of degradation
himself, ultimately manages to remain a hero. Macbeth’s struggle with warrior prowess begins
similarly, though he ultimately falls. Eventually, Satan’s warrior prowess leads him into true
villainy. These literary representations of the perversion of heroic strength ultimately reflect the
concerns of the people regarding its use in England, whether that be in the domination of Ireland,
concern over the power wielded by a new ruler, or in the chaos of civil war.
Tensions were high between England and Ireland while Spencer was writing The Faerie
Queene which had direct impact on forming the Redcrosse Knight’s warrior prowess. While
mostly a positive representation of prowess, The Faerie Queene still shows the ambivalent nature
of warrior prowess. For example, the Irish, after being brought under Henry the VIII’s kingship,
“had, understandably, often resented this change in status and seen crown attempts to regulate
them as part of a much more sinister campaign,” and revolted several times (Hadfield 153-54).
As Hadfield states, “Campaigning in Ireland was invariably a brutal affair which took its toll on
even experienced soldiers used to physical discomfort and harsh conditions” (160). Arthur, Lord
Grey de Wilton, was named Lord Deputy of Ireland, and appointed Spenser as his secretary.
During Spenser’s stay in Dublin, “a pageant of the adopted English saint [St. George] was
performed, the actors processing through the streets, the event culminating in St George slaying
the dragon” (Hadfield 178). This example of English patriotism, shown as an exhibition of
prowess, during a war in Ireland might have encouraged the English soldiers, but also would
have been demeaning to the Irish watching, illustrating both forms of warrior prowess:
5
It may be that this pageant, the nature of its performance, and the overt or suppressed
reactions to what Dubliners saw, representing the complicated and problematic
relationship between the different communities of Old English, New English, and Gaelic
Irish in Ireland, had an impact on his decision to write Book I, the story of the Red-Cross
Knight. (178)
According to Hadfield, “We know that Spencer was at work on The Faerie Queene in the first
few years after he came to Ireland” (178). As such, the tensions between the Irish and the
English—specifically do to the desire to maintain power—would have likely influenced the
depiction of conflicted prowess that appears in Redcrosse’s character arc.
The Faerie Queene, in direct relation to the conflict between England and Ireland, shows
warrior prowess in both a positive and negative light, especially in relation to the Redcrosse
Knight. Redcrosse Knight’s introduction in the first book explicitly shows positive prowess
through his gear: “Y clad in mightie armes and silver shielde, / Wherein old dints of deepe
wounds did remaine, / The cruell markes of many a bloudy fielde” (2-4). Although this armor
has actually not been used by this particular knight as of this point, Redcrosse proves himself
very early in the poem by defeating the serpent Errour: “And strooke at her with more than
manly force, / That from her body full of filthie sin / He raft her hatefull head without remorse”
(1.1.213-15). This is an example of positive prowess, as Redcrosse is actively fighting against
evil. The act also resembles what the character St. George performed in the pageant Spenser
saw, Redcrosse slaying the serpent Errour much like the positive aspect of St. George slaying the
evil dragon.
However, prowess can also prove negative, as Redcrosse’s pride leads him to seek
greater challenges, which causes strife in his travels with Una. Redcrosse’s warrior prowess in
6
the later parts of the poem leads him to ignoble deeds, but he is spared from becoming a villain.
This could tie in with England’s problematic relationship with Ireland, as while, to the English,
their actions would be considered patriotic, to the Irish—who actively tried to rebel several
times—the actions would be suppressive and costly. Hadfield comments on the cost of some of
the battles against England: “One estimate of casualties in the wars Munster between 1579 and
1583 puts them as high as 50,000, about a third of the Munster population and a tenth of the
whole population of Ireland” (167). This would naturally leave the Irish bitter and unwelcoming
towards English intervention.
More personally, Spencer’s employer, Lord Grey, performed acts of ‘bad prowess’ where
he promised to let prisoners of the rebellion go and didn’t, and yet Spencer “made vigorous
public defenses of his former employer” (Hadfield 168). However, “there is no defense of
Grey’s actions at Smerwick,” specifically in The Faerie Queene, where Grey is sometimes
considered to be a character in a later book (Hadfield 168). Spencer, while defending his
employer, was certainly aware of Grey’s bad prowess, even while he also tried to emphasize his
good prowess.
Redcrosse’s fall and eventual redemption would represent Spencer’s attempt to redeem
both Grey and England for the actions in Ireland. Redcrosse, after being led astray by Duessa,
faces several opponents, such as Sans joy and Orgoglio, who lead him steadily further towards
destroying himself. A notable example is when Redcrosse is brought to the House of Pride and,
after witnessing a parade of the seven deadly sins, is challenged to battle by Sans joy. Redcrosse
is still described as having “flaming corage” and though Redcrosse wins, he is left injured and
forced to heal in that same house: “Home is he brought, and laid in sumptuous bed: / Where
many skillfull leaches him abide, / To salve his hurts, that yet still freshly bled” (1.5.6, 145-47).
7
Not only does Redcrosse fare worse fighting for Duessa in the House of Pride, but he also comes
into greater peril when he is nearly imprissoned: “Where in a dungeon deepe huge numbers lay /
Of captive wretched thralls, that waylѐd night and day” (1.5.404-05). This fall culminates with
Redcrosse’s battle against Orgoglio, where he is unable to overcome his opponent: “Yet so
exceeding was the villeins power, / That with the wind it did [Redcrosse] overthrow, / And all
his sences stound, that still he lay full low” (1.7.106-08). Ultimately, Redcrosse is unable to save
himself while under the influence of bad prowess, his salvation from servitude coming in the
form of then-Prince Arthur.
Searching for these opponents could reflect the state of Renaissance England at the time.
The fact that Redcrosse’s prowess in battle leads to his downfall could represent dissatisfaction
with a militant lifestyle, but could also represent misdeeds against the Irish, such as Lord Grey’s
actions. However, Redcrosse is able to show positive prowess later, after repenting in the House
of Holiness and going to defeat the dragon. As stated at the end of the battle, “Then God [Una]
praysd, and thankt her faithfull knight, / That had achiev’d so great a conquest by his might”
(1.11.494-95). His redemption, and the more positive prowess shown in Redcrosse’s fight
against the dragon, shows that England—and individuals such as Lord Grey—can still make up
for bad prowess upon repentance.
Redcrosse Knight’s warrior prowess straddles the line between good and bad, depending
on what he uses it for, and this reflects England’s acts in Ireland. While patriotic, the actions of
various soldiers in England would have caused a great amount of turmoil and discontent among
the Irish. Redcrosse’s eventual defeat of the dragon and return to good prowess reflects the
perceived view that England was able to return to good prowess. However, not all characters
who fell into bad prowess were able to redeem themselves.
8
The change of rulers from Elizabeth to James instigates a fall in the reputation of warrior
prowess in British literature. James, a king of Scotland before he became the king of England,
faced uncertainty from the moment he ascended the throne. Jonathon Bate states, “Within
months of [James’s] assumption of the English throne in 1603, a plot to depose him and replace
him with his cousin Arbella was discovered” (323). Macbeth was written at the beginning of
James’s rule, when Shakespeare’s group became officially known as the King’s Men. As Bate
says, “Shakespeare wrote all his later plays in the knowledge that the King’s Men were required
to give more command performances at court than any other theater company” (283). Moreover,
Bate says, “Macbeth is steeped in King James’s preoccupations: the rights of royal succession,
the relationship between England and Scotland…anxiety about gunpowder, treason, and plot”
(325). As such, Shakespeare’s choice to focus on a Scottish hero was done to appeal to James
while referring to anxieties regarding the possible forms of warrior prowess in his rule.
Like the political atmosphere, Macbeth, as a character, illustrates this mix of negative and
positive prowess. Although his abilities earn him great renown, they also cloud his mind and
eventually lead to his descent into villainy. Shakespeare, due to James’s background, would
likely have wanted to exalt the Scottish hero, and this is seen with the Captain, who has only
praises for Macbeth’s heroism in war: “For brave Macbeth—well he deserves that name—
/Disdaining Fortune, with his brandished steel […] Like valor’s minion carved out his passage /
Till he faced the slave […] Till he unseamed him from the nave to th’ chops, / And fixed his
head upon our battlements” (1.2.16—23). Macbeth’s prowess in war earns him the title of Thane
of Cawdor and seems to suggest greater rewards to come, “All hail, Macbeth, that shalt be king
hereafter!” (1.3.50). This shows how Macbeth’s good prowess in the play’s beginning earns him
rewards, and should he have continued with good prowess, he likely could have received similar
9
benefits without falling into villainy. However, he falls to temptation, and ultimately allows
himself to perform acts of bad prowess in order to hurry his ascension.
It can take warrior prowess to overthrow a king, and a powerful warrior may think he
deserves to be king over the current ruler, if he has sufficient evidence in his abilities. Such is
the case in Macbeth, as while the titular character initially fights the desire to overthrow Duncan,
the implication that he would become king still brings up the potential for murder: “My thought,
whose murder yet is but fantastical, / Shakes so my single state of man” (1.3.140-41). Macbeth
may not wish to commit murder, yet the thought has still entered his mind due to the praises
heaped on him because of his prowess. Eventually he gives in to his thoughts and his wife’s
urging, killing Duncan. Shakespeare is obviously portraying a sort of anti-hero that would speak
to James’s fears. Macbeth himself is brave and powerful in warfare, an opponent one would not
likely wish to meet and who poses a threat to the king. Though Macbeth ultimately becomes
king of Scotland, his rule is plagued due to the poor method Macbeth went about obtaining
power. His negative actions—the negative prowess shown in killing Duncan and letting his
belief in his abilities corrupt him—lead to an unstable kingdom and an unstable individual,
shown when Macbeth reacts to seeing Banquo’s ghost, claiming, “I have a strange infirmity”
(3.4.89). The play ends with Macbeth’s death, and shows that attempting to usurp the throne
from the rightful ruler will only end in chaos. This, in turn, could allay James’s fears about his
right to rule—though not of the chance of assassination—as well as possibly discouraging
observers from taking such a path. These actions illustrate the more ambiguous nature of warrior
prowess; while good events may come from it, prowess can also be used for such negative acts
as the deposition of a king.
10
Positive prowess doesn’t disappear, however, and is shown again by Macduff towards the
end of the play. Macduff is the man to challenge Macbeth and, ultimately, kill him, stating, “My
voice is in my sword” (5.7.6). Macduff does everything in the name of his country, and when
Malcolm tests his virtue he says, “I would not be the villain that thou think’st / For the whole
space that’s in the tyrant’s grasp” (4.3.36-37). Macduff does not take the throne after killing
Macbeth, instead handing it over to Malcolm. This act shows positive warrior prowess, and sets
an example for how one should go about receiving and handling power, likely both for the new
monarch and for those who may wish to usurp him.
Macbeth’s failure in regards to warrior prowess leads him to villainy in killing Duncan,
and shows a deterioration in the value of prowess as compared to the Redcrosse Knight, just as
the comfort of Elizabeth’s rule in England fell when into uncertainty when James took the
throne. Macbeth ultimately meets a villain’s fate, killed by a character who exhibits the more
positive version of warrior prowess he left behind. This deterioration continues further into the
Renaissance, reflective of the transition of rulers, as the heroes’ warrior prowess causes them to
devolve further into anti-heroes.
When King Charles I took the throne during Milton’s time, an already unstable England
became more so. Charles, while ostensibly king of three places—England, Ireland, and
Scotland—had very little interaction with the latter two kingdoms, and when he did, “he dabbled
in northern politics in ways which alarmed his subjects with uncertainties about his intentions”
(Campbell and Corns 131). Milton was rather outspoken against Charles, writing works about
“the deposition and trial of tyrants,” which is likely due to “return[ing] to a London in which the
political future was bewilderingly uncertain” after the Bishop’s War (196, 133). During this time
Parliament ended up confronting Charles, a confrontation that ultimately dissolved the country
11
into a Civil War. While Oliver Cromwell helped Parliament rule England after Charles I’s death,
his rule did not create a stable country. Campbell and Corns state that, “Once Cromwell died,
[Milton] judged the political climate to have changed, and entered spiritedly into the renewed
debate about church government” (306). Discontent flourished around the period Milton wrote
Paradise Lost: “Domestic policy saw hues and cries after several real or imaginary uprisings,
and an associated intensification of the persecution of dissenters” (326). This was likely due to
the fall of the Parliamentary Commonwealth and the Restoration of the monarchy under Charles
II.
If The Faerie Queene and Macbeth show a gradual fall of the value of warrior prowess in
the hero—from good, in the hands of a true hero, to good or bad, depending on the purpose—
then Milton’s Paradise Lost shows the complete fall, illustrating how many problems warrior
prowess can cause. Paradise Lost goes further than Macbeth in terms of warrior prowess’ dark
side, with the main character losing a Heavenly Kingdom rather than an earthly one; Satan’s
rebellion against God not only reflects the chaos of the first English Civil War, where King
Charles I and Parliament fought, but also Milton’s disillusionment after the Commonwealth
failed and Charles II regained the throne.
Much like with Macbeth, Paradise Lost deals with a villainous protagonist who wishes to
overthrow his ruler; unlike Macbeth, the main character does not succeed, and ends up
condemned for his crimes. This could be as much from memories of Charles I’s reign as from
fearing what would happen after Charles II usurped Parliament. Charles II’s reign began with an
iron fist, where, as Campbell and Corns state, “everyone will be pardoned except those whom
[Charles’s] Parliament decides should not be pardoned” (307). Milton was against the new ruler,
and made “attempts to rally support through his publications” in order to help restore the old
12
Parliament (309). Milton would likely have been thinking of the former monarch at this time.
Hillier says, in relation to King Charles I, “Milton’s defense of the regicide, Eikonoklastes
(1649), shows itself to be far from indifferent in its ascription of Satanic fraud and force to
Charles I’s methods of attempting to reign and secure power in the turbulent First and Second
Civil Wars” (22). As such, it is easy to see Satan as perhaps not only an unworthy usurper—like
many English may have felt about others who had tried to take the throne at the time—but also
as a potential unworthy ruler. Portraying an epic hero in a negative light, and then specifically
relating him to some of the individuals seen at the time, could influence readers to wish for a
better, more Christ-like hero, both in their literature and in their politics.
While warrior prowess appears in angels on both sides of the battle for Heaven, it is
especially evident in the main character, Satan. Satan’s character serves as a way to deconstruct
the traditional epic hero ideal. In the poem he boasts that he:
To the fierce contentions brought along
Innumerable force of Spirits armed,
That dared dislike His reign, and, me preferring,
His utmost power with adverse power opposed
In dubious battle on the plains of Heaven,
And shook His throne. (1.100-05)
Here Satan comments on the martial powers he raised to combat God, and how they were able to
“[shake] His throne,” a powerful feat against the Creator (1.105). The use of “dubious” (104)
also illustrates this, as it implies the battle was difficult from both sides, and not simply a one-
13
sided brawl. Moreover, Satan goes on to boast only a few lines later, “All is not lost—the
unconquerable will, / And study of revenge, immortal hate, / And courage never to submit or
yield: / And what is else not to be overcome?” (1.106-09). Here Satan portrays several traits that
would be associated with the traditional epic hero, such as courage and determination. However,
even while the poem portrays Satan’s warrior prowess and epic-heroic attributes, one must
remember that Satan in traditional Christian lore is a villain, and this is not absent from the
poem. Even in this beginning section, one of the powers he references is “hate,” and he later
goes to destroy Adam and Eve’s peace out of spite (1.107).
Regicide was a subject earlier in Milton’s time, and likely would have been in his mind
after Parliament’s fall. While Milton defended the regicide against Charles I, he was known to
be upset about the fall of the ‘rightful’ leaders, Parliament, and he “[published] in defense of the
republic” (Campbell and Corns 311). As such, it is easy to make connections between Milton’s
Satan and the political situation at the time. Satan’s actions against God were certainly an
attempt at regicide, though most likely Milton viewed Satan as either the first Charles, who he
relates to Satan to defend his regicide, or to the second, who ‘overthrew’ Parliament. Heaven
itself experienced a civil war in Paradise Lost because of this, much like Britain. Satan’s actions
also reflect the rebellions happening in the time period, and his punishment could hardly be
worse than what was issued at the time. The various instances in Paradise Lost dealing with war
and rebellion were a finger on the pulse of the kingdom’s fears. Satan’s ultimate fall, and his
portrayal of warrior prowess in a purely negative light, shows the final fall of the ideal through
Charles II’s rise, and the desire to achieve a more peaceful hero in response to the war-plagued
times.
14
Warrior prowess’s degradation is apparent through the Renaissance, literary characters
showing progressively more bad prowess in keeping with the various rulers and events that
appeared during their forming. Redcrosse showed mostly good prowess under the rule of
Elizabeth, Macbeth showed a mix under James’s reign, and Satan showed only bad prowess in
representing the Civil War and the Restoration. This degradation also appeared in other heroic
traits, such as humility, where the humility of the ruling powers and Church directly affected the
representation of humility in literary characters.
Humility is another core trait associated with heroes, and is mentioned by Campbell as
something that prevents a hero from becoming a tyrant: “The tyrant is proud, and therein resides
his doom. He is proud because he thinks of his strength as his own” (337). The essence of
humility is to remember one’s own limits, and that there is always a greater power. The
definition of humility often espoused by the Catholic Church is, “Humility in a higher and ethical
sense is that by which a man has a modest estimate of his own worth, and submits himself to
others” (Knight). Jennifer Clement reiterates this statement specifically in regard to early
England, saying, “the discourse of humility in early modern England can encompass both abject
submission to God and qualified assertions of self-respect and agency,” allowing heroes to both
have confidence and submit themselves to something greater (132). As Campbell states of the
saint-like hero, “The ego is burnt out” (354). Humility is a bar from the pride that would,
eventually, cause the hero to fall into villainy.
As with warrior prowess, the humility of the heroes degrades over time, the further into
the Renaissance the works were written, showing a growing desire for humility in the English
rulers, as well as relating to a core value of the Protestant Reformation. Henry VIII, during his
reign, showed a lack of humility. He wished to divorce his second wife when she did not
15
produce a son and, not allowed to do so under Catholicism, converted to Protestantism and
declared himself the head of the Anglican Church, which would be considered a prideful act.
England’s official religion shifted between the two for many years after, only relatively
stabilizing when Elizabeth took the throne. The Protestant Reformation provided significant
desire for a return to humility in both church and state, as in England there were “controversies
over the use or abuse of power by the Catholic Church” through methods such as indulgences
(Black, et al. XL). As such, the now-Protestant England would likely have wished to avoid such
abuses of power, and so return to a more Christian concept of ‘humility,’ in this case referring to
a lowering of oneself, whether that is by submitting to a higher power or giving others credit for
success.
Of these three stories, the only character to truly show humility at any point is the
Redcrosse Knight in The Faerie Queene, though it is not until his repentance that this aspect
shines through, and this is due to Queen Elizabeth’s own humility. Elizabeth often included self-
deprecating language in her speeches, such as in her “Speech to the Soldiers Assembled to Repel
the Spanish Armada,” where she described herself as “[having] but the body of a weak and
feeble woman” (“Queen Elizabeth I Speeches”). In that same speech she lowers herself to the
level of the common soldier by stating that she will “live or die amongst you all; to lay down, for
my God, and for my kingdom, and for my people, my honor and my blood, even the dust”
(“Queen Elizabeth I Speeches”). This humility is reflected in the Redcrosse Knight later in The
Faerie Queene. After being told he would be considered the patron saint of England, Redcrosse
states, “Unworthy wretch (quoth he) of so great grace, / How dare I thinke such glory to
attaine?” (1.10.550-51). This scene, directly after Redcrosse’s penance, shows his growth as a
character, and is a contrast to his pride earlier in the poem, where “his hart did earne / To prove
16
his puissance in battell brave” (1.1.24-25). Only after this point is Redcrosse able to defeat the
dragon, and this again reflects the culture’s increased importance on humility.
Humility ultimately proves the key to unlocking Redcrosse’s abilities and eventually
saving Una’s parents from the dragon. However, Redcrosse must learn humility, as he when he
begins his quest he seeks opponents for his own glory, such as with his actions in the House of
Pride. This theme is prominent enough that Redcrosse’s fall before his redemption comes at
Orgoglio, whose name literally means “pride” (Black, et al. 185). Moreover, the individual who
holds the keys to the House of Holinesse is named Humilta, meaning ‘humility,’ who guards the
door “for feare of many foes” (1.10.39). This emphasizes humility’s importance, as not only is it
the only way to enter heaven, but it guards against the dangers of sin such as pride, something
that Redcrosse comes to understand. However, not all Renaissance heroes are able to learn this
virtue, and thus, with increasing uncertainty over the humility of rulers at the time, the literary
heroes’ humility degrades alongside the rulers’.
A lack of humility within Macbeth likely would have resonated with England at the time,
especially since a new monarch had recently come into power. King James, much like Macbeth,
teeters on the line between humility and arrogance. James’s reign was marked from the start by
acts to depose him, and “was haunted by fears of conspiracy and treason, and with good reason”
(Bate 323). While James’s thoughts on the situation are not entirely known, it is likely that the
actions would have made him very aware of his own mortality, thus instilling a sense of humility
in him, insofar as that he was mortal and able to be deposed or killed. James himself shows
examples of both a lack of humility and of taking this warning to heart. In his speech “On the
Divine Right of Kings,” James states, “Kings are justly called Gods, for that they exercise a
manner or resemblance of divine power upon earth.” However, in another speech “On
17
Kingship,” he states, “the proud and ambitious tyrant does think his kingdom and people are only
ordained for satisfaction of his desires and unreasonable appetites; The righteous and just king
does by the contrary acknowledge himself to be ordained for the procuring of the wealth and
prosperity of his people.” These words show an uncertain balance between humility and pride,
something reflected in Macbeth’s actions.
Macbeth could have been used as a warning to the new monarch about what could
happen to a kingdom should one not give the proper respect to those who put the ruler—and
keep him—in power. Bate highlights how Shakespeare might have been playing to James’s
anxieties, saying, “The sequence in which the Macbeths attempt to frame the grooms of the
chamber for the murder of King Duncan was written by a Shakespeare who was himself a groom
of the chamber” (323). The fact that the theater was difficult to regulate made plays with ideas
such as Macbeth far more accessible, and could be potentially dangerous to the unwary monarch:
“Though there were always virtuous and obedient voices somewhere in the mix, though the
rebels and the king killers always came to a sticky end, and though every script had to be
approved by a government censor, there was no way of preventing audiences from identifying
with the voices of transgression and self-assertion” (322). As such, this would be as much a
reminder to James that he would need to treat his subjects and supporters with respect—in order
not to invoke a situation where he ends up in a similar state as Duncan—but also that he would
need to respect artists such as Shakespeare, who held a certain amount of power over him in the
form of their works. James would need to show humility by lowering himself to the artists that
served under him, and by extension, submitting himself to the people. Moreover, James
certainly struggled with the right to rule, and as Mondi says, “Throughout his speeches, James
emphasized his positive attributes as he attempted to fashion a favorable image of himself. He
18
was cognizant of the doubts the English had about his ability as a Scotsman to rule England” (7).
James teeters on the edge of being humble and not being so, through this knowledge of the
citizens’ doubts and through his own attempts to promote himself as being better than the
average individual to allay their fears.
Macbeth, like James, faces the challenge of balancing humility with pride and ambition,
which he ultimately fails by killing Duncan to take the throne, sending his kingdom into chaos.
Macbeth is also very aware of the fact that he initially does not own the titles he receives, and
asks Angus when he calls him the Thane of Cawdor, “Why do you dress me / In borrowed
robes?” (1.3.108-09). Moreover, he is reluctant to kill Duncan, describing the desire as a “horrid
image” and saying “Let not light see my black and deep desires,” though this reluctance does not
change the fact that the desire is there, showing a duality in Macbeth’s thoughts (1.3.146,
1.4.51). However, he also seems excited about the prospect of becoming king, saying, “Two
truths are told, / As happy prologues to the swelling act / Of the imperial theme” (1.3.128-30).
His ambition leads him to contact his more ambitious wife, which in turn leads to the murder of
Duncan. Considering the target of the attack, Macbeth’s actions could be seen as a critique of
the many ambitious individuals who had fought for control over England during the past years,
killing their predecessors in order to take the throne and causing strife. As such, for both
instances—literary and political—it seems the lack of humility only leads to chaos. Macbeth’s
actions lead to a civil war in his kingdom, which ends with his death, and the rejoicing of the
entire kingdom. Conversely, Malcolm humbly recognizes that there is much to do to repair
Scotland, saying, “This [calling home those who have fled], and what needful else / That calls
upon us, by the grace of Grace / We will perform in measure, time, and place” (5.8.72-74).
Notably, at this point Macbeth is considered a tyrant, as Macduff, after his death, describes him
19
as a “dead butcher” (5.8.70). Macbeth’s fall into tyranny is cemented, then, by his ambition to
achieve the throne.
As Joseph Campbell notes, it is easy for a character such as Macbeth to lose his way.
Macbeth, as the leader or “father” of his men, should be espousing virtues to live up to. As
Campbell states, “To see him is to perceive the meaning of existence. From his presence boons
go out; his word is the wind of life” (347). For example, while Duncan was still king, he states,
“I have begun to plant thee, and will labor / To make thee full of growing” (1.4.28-29).
However, as Campbell also mentions, “a deterioration may take place in the character of the
representative of the father. […] The emperor becomes the tyrant ogre (Herod-Nimrod), the
usurper from whom the world is now to be saved” (347, 349). In this instance, Campbell is
referring to the hero giving credit to those that helped him obtain his power, thus showing a sort
of humility in ruling. The hero only falls after refusing to do this: “No longer referring the boons
of his reign to their transcendent source, the emperor breaks the stereoptic vision which it is his
role to sustain. […] The upholding idea of the community is lost. Force is all that binds it”
(349). These passages illustrate the danger of acting with a lack of humility; by not giving credit
to whatever force put the hero into a position of power, he is ultimately going to cause the
downfall of his kingdom and lose the trust of his people. As the play progresses, Macbeth’s lack
of humility clearly grows stronger, in his choice not to fear Macduff, and in fact to attack his
castle:
Then live, Macduff; what need I fear of thee?…From this moment
The very firstlings of my heart shall be
The firstlings of my hand. And even now,
To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done:
20
The castle of Macduff I will surprise. (4.1.82, 146-50)
This lack of humility leads to his downfall. If he had stopped to look examine the words of the
apparitions conjured by the witches more carefully, he might have realized the dangers
potentially posed to him and taken caution accordingly. Like James, Macbeth struggles to find a
balance between his desire for power and humility. Unlike James, however, Macbeth ultimately
fails, and succumbs to the tyranny that James feared. Macbeth’s and James’s struggles with
humility are patterned by the age in which they existed, and ultimately the struggle falls towards
ambition after James’s reign.
When the Renaissance progressed to Charles I’s reign, a desire for humility appeared in
two forms: a desire for a more humble ruler, and a more humble religion, though in this case
conflict resulted between different branches of Protestantism rather than between Catholics and
Protestants. Charles’s actions in trying to control Ireland and Scotland, and his failure to rule
them correctly, eventually brought him into conflict with Parliament, who eventually deposed
him. Moreover, after this time, the different sects of Protestantism, much like Protestantism and
Catholicism before, continued to argue over the correct ways to worship. Milton took an interest
in the arguments and wrote various works on them. As Campbell and Corns state, “Milton’s
rhetoric is tuned to the arrogance of his intended audience, those founders of the English
republic, ‘our old Patriots, the first Assertours of our religious and civil rights,’” (295). Milton’s
words in Paradise Lost reflect the view that religion and politics should return to a more humble
time.
Satan embodies this lack of humility, though in this case it is on a spiritual plane rather
than a physical one, which relates as much to the struggle between branching aspects of
Christianity as it does to the shifting political leaders. In Christianity, Satan is stated to have
21
sought to become like God, and the circumstances are no different here; he even explicitly
refuses to bow to God, despite his loss, stating, “That glory never shall His wrath or might /
Extort from me” (1.110-11). This lack of humility is what led to his downfall, and it also later
leads to the fall of the human race through Adam and Eve, where Satan, as the serpent, tempts
Eve to eat the forbidden fruit by appealing to arrogance: “I, of brute, human; ye, of human, gods”
(9.714). Eve’s choice to eat the fruit, desiring to become like God, is what brings sin into the
human world, and therefore indicates the lack of humility shown by all the characters involved is
what ultimately causes evil. This condemnation of arrogance can stem from an increased interest
in the Christian hero. As Russell Hillier states, “Milton had early sought a poetic character ‘in
whom to lay the pattern of a Christian Heroe.’” As such, one key trait of Christianity, humility,
would likely be exalted, while Satan’s lack would be condemned. Moreover, St. Thomas
Aquinas condemns pride in his work Summa Theologica, saying, “Pride is the most grievous of
sins by its genus, because it exceeds in aversion which is the formal complement of sin” (2485).
Pride is the sin chiefly associated with Satan, due to his attempt to become more like God,
despite his high rank among God’s angels. His pride ultimately results in eternal damnation, and
this could easily be seen as a warning, especially considering that Milton himself lived through
several wars and, as Hadfield notes of one of Milton’s works, “The poem points to a renewed
commitment to the arts of peace,” showing an investment in this idea of relinquishing pride for
humility and stability (156).
Milton’s Satan shows a complete fall from grace through an abundance of pride. Like
King Charles II and other early listeners, Satan was unable to forgo his ambitions for the greater
good, and thus was eventually expelled from his high place in Heaven. Moreover, Satan’s
22
refusal to reconcile with God and repent resembles the different Protestant churches’ refusal to
forgo their pride and reconcile with each other.
Humility, much like warrior prowess, saw degradation through the Renaissance. Though
the importance of humility never diminished, the ability for characters to show humility did,
falling from Redcrosse, the most humble, to Macbeth, who had a mix of humility and pride, to
Satan, the embodiment of pride. The ability to show humility directly relates to the humility of
systems in power at the time, with Elizabeth being very humble, James being a mix, and the
Church and later Stuart monarchs seeming prideful. These ruling powers also affected an aspect
of heroic tales that, while having connections to the hero and his quest, was not a trait of the
heroes themselves. Such is the case with the final aspect of heroism, supernatural aid. Much
like warrior prowess and humility, supernatural sees degradation through the Renaissance as the
political situation shifted.
Often a hero, while on his quest, will receive supernatural aid. As Campbell states,
“What such a figure represents is the benign, protecting power of destiny” (71). This power can
either help or harm the hero, and Campbell describes “this supernatural principle of
guardianship” as “protective and dangerous, motherly and fatherly at the same time” (73). The
supernatural can range from something as simple as a fairy godmother, to a demon such as
Marlowe’s Mephistopheles, to God Himself. The requirements for this sort of aid are that the
help given would be something the hero could not do by himself, and which helps him through
the obstacles he faces.
Supernatural aid also degrades through the three heroes, possibly brought on by the
religious fluctuation in England. With the constant change of rulers and, with them, the change
of religion, the Church of England was undoubtedly confused, unable to finally declare itself as
23
Catholic or Protestant for many years, mixing up different traditions from both sides of the faith
and within different sects of Protestantism, leading to questions from the citizens about what
version of the religion they should profess to practice. The arguments continued throughout the
Renaissance, as evidenced by Milton expressing religious concerns as much as Spenser, though
they changed in nature. Much like warrior prowess and humility, the methods by which these
writers applied supernatural aid degraded from heavenly aid in The Faerie Quene, to the more
mundane witches of Macbeth, to evil “aid” in Paradise Lost. The nature of supernatural aid in
each of these stories is reflected in the perception of the various rulers.
The earliest text, The Faerie Queene, deals with supernatural aid in the most benign
manner, yet still reflects England’s uncertainty about its own religious certitude. Una appears as
a true form of aid to keep the Redcrosse Knight on the correct path, while Duessa appears as a
form of interference disguised as aid but intent on harming and hindering the Redcrosse Knight.
Duessa is supposedly a representation of the Catholic church, while Una, Redcrosse’s guide, is
supposedly a representation of the Protestant or ‘true’ church. Hadfield notes, “The Faerie
Queene is intensely hostile to the papacy and to the power of Spain, as the [representation] of
Duessa as the Whore of Babylon…demonstrate[s]” (259). This links the poem back to the
Protestant Reformation, as much of the first book revolves around Redcrosse’s struggle over
which of these two women he should follow. Spencer makes it obvious he believes the hero
should follow the Protestant tradition, rather than the Catholic, through the victory of Una, the
representation of the Protestant Church, over Duessa, the representation of the Catholic Church.
The poem itself is in honor of Queen Elizabeth herself, as Spenser refers to her in the forward to
the first book as the “Great Lady of the greatest Isle” (1.0.30). As such, Spenser also could have
been playing to Elizabeth’s Protestant preferences.
24
The Faerie Queene deals with supernatural aid specifically in relation to the divine,
connecting it to the English Protestant Reformation. This is likely due to Elizabeth’s opinions on
the Catholic Church, which are rather negative: “Our realm and subjects have been long
wanderers, walking astray whilst they were under the tuition of Romish Pastors…whose
inventions, heresies, and schisms be so numerous, that the flock of Christ have fed on poisonous
shrubs for want of wholesome pastures” ("Response on Religion"). Britain at that time needed
supernatural aid in order to return to the correct path, but struggled due to relations with the
wrong church. Redcrosse and Una embody this concept, with Redcrosse, as England, unable to
fully grasp how to relate to Una, the embodiment of the church. When Redcrosse loses her, he
loses sight of where he’s supposed to go and what he’s supposed to do; only when Una is present
does Redcrosse perform as he should. Archimago is able to convince Redcrosse of Una’s
infidelity, despite the fact that Redcrosse had known Una longer: “Come see, where your false
Lady doth her honour staine. … The eye of reason was with rage yblent, / And would have slaine
them in his furious ire, / But hardly was restreinѐd of that agѐd sire” (1.2.36-45). As Hadfield
states, “The knight and Una, standing for England and its church, do not understand each other
because they do not yet know who they are, how they should behave, and what the future will
provide” (259). This shows both the relative newness of England as a country independent of
outside rulers such as Rome and of the Protestant church in England. Many Protestants at that
time would likely not have known exactly where they stood, and would have needed a sort of
“divine” aid through the Protestant Church. At the poem’s end, however, while Redcrosse
leaves to continue his service to the Faerie Queene, he is still married to Una, which represents
that the religious situation in England would slowly become more stable under Queen Elizabeth.
25
The Faerie Queene’s stance on supernatural aid is biased obviously towards the
‘uncorrupted’ Protestant Christianity. The belief that Protestantism is the correct path is
emphasized by Elizabeth’s own Protestant beliefs, and further helped by the fact that
Protestantism is the religion to maintain a hold on England throughout the Renaissance.
However, the more divine aspect of supernatural aid shown in this work falls to a more earthly
aspect with a shift in the kingdom’s preoccupations.
Macbeth takes a more mixed view of supernatural aid, which reflects both England’s
uncertainty about its new Scottish ruler and James’s interest in witchcraft. Bate mentions
“witchcraft” as one of James’s preoccupations, and notes, “the king had published a treatise
explaining how monarchs were God’s regents upon the earth and another arguing for the reality
of witchcraft” (325). Macbeth, like the heroes of old, gains aid from the witches partway
through the play in the form of receiving visions of what is to come. Much like other aspects of
the play, this traditional portrayal of an epic hero is twisted. While ordinarily the aid given
would be to help a hero overcome his trials, in this case the aid is to tempt a villain towards what
could potentially be his downfall. Moreover, another supernatural element appears in the form
of the ghost, but to vex Macbeth rather than to help him. Both of these supernatural instances
show instability, something Lowrance alludes to in regards to the end of the play: “…while the
play ends with an outward show of social harmony, it leaves us with a sense of the fragility,
insufficiency, and ecstatic alienation of individual action in an increasingly abstract and aleatory
political modernity” (267). This uncertainty in the play relates to the uncertainty surrounding
James’s new rule. As Mobit mentions, James had to “[take] extra care to depict himself as an
authoritative paragon who was trustworthy and loyal to both crowns” (7). James’s position
could be seen as fragile, as can Macbeth’s, and this is shown by the latter’s concern with the
26
ghost and the witches. As Bate says, “Religion and politics were joined seamlessly together.
The Bible said that rebellion is as the sin of witchcraft: if the monarch was God’s representative
upon earth, then to conspire against him was to make a pact with the instruments of darkness”
(325). Thus, Macbeth’s connection with the supernatural takes a negative political tint. His
kingship, first foretold to him by the witches, had been tainted from the start, as the very nature
of the telling connected it to rebellion. That he goes back to the witches later for aid only further
solidifies Macbeth’s descent into darkness due to the nature of how he obtained the throne.
While the witches he speaks to in this section certainly do not seem virtuous in nature,
Macbeth still owes a great deal to them, both for the initial declaration of his kingship and for the
visions they show him to allay his fears. He still speaks of them with contempt: “Infected be the
air whereon [the witches] ride, / And damned all those that trust them!” (4.1.138-39). Macbeth,
disdaining the supernatural aid that forewarned him, also disdains himself, as he does not look
closely enough at their visions and in his bravado attacks Macduff’s castle.
Paradise Lost returns to a divine concept of supernatural aid, but takes a darker turn by
using a fallen angel as an example of the perversion of divine aid, and in the process shows the
faults of both Protestantism and Catholicism. Disputes between Protestants and Catholics were
common due to perceived corruption and blasphemy, and Milton took a specific interest in the
argument, though he seemed to believe both sides were at fault. As Campbell and Corns state,
“His review of prelatical malpractice from the days of Augustine to the present is a historical
overview drawn from the most part from English historians and demonstrating that the Office
and structure of prelacy are so malign that England suffers, no matter whether the malefactors
are Protestant or Catholic” (139-40). Moreover, in the later periods of the English Renaissance,
the different branches of Protestantism began arguing, as well, creating further dissent.
27
In an interesting twist, the main protagonist of Paradise Lost is a supernatural being
himself. The supernatural aid—seen in this case through God—is for the individuals that Satan
wishes to harm. The protagonist provides a form of supernatural interference, but does it not to
aid others, but to harm, as in the case of Satan disguising himself as the serpent to tempt Eve,
eventually bringing about the fall of mankind. The aid seen comes in the form of God’s angels,
such as Raphael, who warns Adam about Satan’s plans. However, Satan’s own supernatural
nature aids him in overcoming Adam and Eve, though ultimately not in defeating God. Satan
needs no supernatural aid, since, as a super natural being, he is able to aid himself, though for
malicious purposes. Eve is led astray by what she perceives to be positive aid by Satan’s trick,
believing his words to be genuine: “in her ears the sound / Yet rung of his persuasive words,
impregned / With reason, to her seeming, and with truth” (9.738-40). Satan disguises his guile as
aid, in turn leading Eve away from the true supernatural aid that would have prevented
mankind’s fall.
Satan’s actions could relate to the prelatical malpractice Milton saw, as Satan, much like
certain churches, was leading God’s sheep astray. Satan, formerly an angel, is cast out of
Heaven, and becomes “th’ infernal Serpent; he it was whose guile…deceived / The mother of
mankind” (1.34-36). Much like Satan leading Eve—and through her, Adam—away from
Raphael’s warning words into sin, certain churches were able to lead Christians away from the
true word of God. With the struggle between the many branches of Christianity—Protestantism
and Catholicism, and the various sects of Protestantism—it could be that Milton was trying to
illustrate the more important issue, that being the basis of the faith. Only a “true” faith would be
able to successfully guide Christians away from sin, acting as a form of supernatural aid in
reality to oppose the demonic interference Satan presents.
28
Supernatural aid, much like other aspects of heroism in English Renaissance literature,
shows deterioration in quality. It begins with positive, holy aid in The Faerie Queene, transitions
to more earthly, ambivalent aid with Macbeth, and finally ends with demonic interference and
“aid” in Paradise Lost. Each transition is reflected in the individual preoccupations of the time,
whether it be through religion or through a ruler, and became especially apparent the more
unstable the country seemed. The relative religious stability found in association with
Elizabeth’s crowning became more uncertain in light of James’s preoccupations with witchcraft,
and ended altogether when different sects of Protestantism again began arguing over which
version of Christianity was the correct path during the English Civil War, which in turn caused
trust in supernatural aid to become more uncertain and more likely to create villains, should the
wrong individuals be trusted.
Heroism in Renaissance literature saw drastic changes in regards to the political situation.
The three core elements—warrior prowess, humility, and supernatural aid—all degraded, from
the noble Redcrosse Knight, to the dubious Macbeth, to the villainous Satan. The rulers of these
times had as much influence on these changes as the individual events surrounding the creation
of these literary heroes. England’s relative stability at the beginning of the Renaissance allowed
for relatively stable, good heroes, but as it gradually became more unstable literature’s heroes
unraveled with it. The heroes of the latter Renaissance, such as Macbeth and Satan, show the
faults of the kingdom by their own faults, while the earlier Redcrosse Knight was able to show
virtue because of the less tumultuous time. These literary figures show the gradual
disillusionment of their authors with their time period and the specific events that surrounded the
creation of their works, and trace England’s decline. While the heroes may have fallen,
29
however, the works themselves have not, remaining to show a glimpse of their authors’ minds
and of the time period in which they were created.
30
Bibliography:
Aquinas, Thomas. Summa Theologica. Trans. Fathers of the English Dominican Province. 2010.
Basilica. Web. 11 Apr. 2016.
Bate, Jonathan. Soul of the Age: A Biography of the Mind of William Shakespeare. New York:
Random House, 2009. Print.
Black, Joseph, et al., ed. The Renaissance and the Early Seventeenth Century. Vol. 2.
Peterborough, Ont.: Broadview, 2006. Print.
Campbell, Gordon, and Thomas N. Corns. John Milton: Life, Work, and Thought. Oxford:
Oxford UP, 2008. Print.
Campbell, Joseph. The Hero with a Thousand Faces. Princeton, NJ: Princeton UP, 1972. Print.
Clement, Jennifer. Reading Humility in Early Modern England. New York: Routledge,
2016. Google Books. Web. 17 Apr. 2016.
Hadfield, Andrew. Edmund Spenser: A Life. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2012. Print.
31
Hillier, Russell M. "'By Force or Fraud/Weening to Prosper': Milton's Satanic and Messianic
Modes of Heroism." Milton Quarterly 43.1 (2009): 17-38. Wiley Online Library. Web. 5
Sept. 2015.
Knight, Kevin. "Humility." Catholic Encyclopedia. 2012. Web. 11 Apr. 2016.
Lowrance, Bryan. "Impossible Heroes: Heroism and Political Experience in Early Modern
England." Diss. Columbia U, 2012. Columbia University Academic Commons. 2012. Web. 5
Sept. 2015.
Milton, John. Paradise Lost. The Broadview Anthology of British Literature: The Renaissance
and the Early Seventeenth Century. Ed. Joseph Black, et al. Toronto: Broadview, 2006.
842-909. Print.
Mondi, Megan. "The Speeches and Self-Fashioning of King James VI and I to the English
Parliament, 1604-1624." Constructing the Past 8.1 (2007): 139-81. Digital Commons. Web.
16 Mar. 2016.
"On Kingship." King James VI & I Page. Jesus-is-Lord, 1998. Web. 28 Mar. 2016.
"On the Divine Right of Kings." King James VI & I Page. Jesus-is-Lord, 1998. Web. 28 Mar.
2016.
32
"Queen Elizabeth I: Response on Religion, 1559." Queen Elizabeth I of England. Luminarium,
2008. Web. 4 Apr. 2016.
"Queen Elizabeth I Speeches (1566-1601)." Elizabeth I of England. Hanover College History
Department, Web. 3 Apr. 2016.
Shakespeare, William. Macbeth. The Necessary Shakespeare. Ed. David Bevington. 4th ed.
Upper Saddle River: Pearson Education, 2014. 715-747. Print.
Spenser, Edmund. The Faerie Queene. The Broadview Anthology of British Literature: The
Renaissance and the Early Seventeenth Century. Ed. Joseph Black, et al. Toronto:
Broadview, 2006. 142-241. Print.