Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Children's Book Critique: Beorn the Proud


Book Title: Beorn the Proud

Author: Madeleine Polland

Publisher: Bethlehem Books, 1999 and 2001


When I was about thirteen years old, I studied the Vikings. We home-schooled throughout my childhood and one of the highlights of the year was the annual “Science and Project Fair” that the home-school organization put on. The year I was thirteen, we created a big project display about the Vikings complete with costumes, runes, and a model Viking ship.

To get in the spirit of things, my mother decided that she and I would read Beorn the Proud by Madeleine Polland. We would alternate reading chapters while snuggling on her big, warm, fluffy bed. This book, nourished by the memories of the way it was presented to me, stands out in my mind as one of my favorite pieces of Children’s Literature.

Beorn the Proud is the story about a young Irish girl, Ness, whose village was raided by the Vikings and her family killed. While hiding from the Vikings, she is captured by Beorn, a feisty Viking boy who introduces himself as Beorn, “the son of Anlaf the Sea King.” Beorn claims Ness as his slave and drags her onto his father’s ship where she sails through raids with him and watches the curious ways of the Viking people. During her voyage with Beorn they begin to understand each other and though Ness swears she shall never belong to Beorn, she begins to take liking to him and tries to preach the Gospel to him, despite what he and his people had done to her family and village.

There are many elements that drew me into the story and kept me rooting for Ness including interesting dialogue and unexpected insights.

“Speech reveals character.” When dialogue is used properly the characters in the story show their true colors. Accents, speech patterns, even the tone in which they speak reveals if the character is agreeable or difficult, serious or fun-loving, and even whether they are rich or poor. The dialogue in Beorn the Proud provides the reader with accurate description of the character’s attitudes, thoughts, and beliefs. Beorn’s character is especially vocally expressive. Through the many times Beorn uses “by the great Hammer of Thor,” we can be sure of his belief in the Norse religion. Beorn’s attitudes as well as the words he speaks are almost always done so out of pride. He even admits to pride, and shows his difference in thought process when he bids Ness to “be proud to belong to Beorn the Sea King’s son. I am proud to be Beorn.” He demonstrates the pride he takes in his family by tying his name to his father’s title so many times. He even barks out orders to Ness as if he thought he truly was her master. “You will tell me,” “You will get out,” “You will come,” and the most shocking to Ness, “you shall be mine.” Beorn’s proud words often got him in trouble, proving him to be a foolish youth and not a wise King as Beorn so longed to be. At one time, Beorn’s pride moved him to challenge a great man to a swimming contest in icy cold water. Beorn won, but later that same man banishes Beorn and his company from the lands of Denmark.

Rich dialogue isn’t the only noteworthy thing in Beorn the Proud; it is filled with unexpected insights. These small, eye-opening surprises fill a book with secrets and make the reader long to read more, making the reader search for clues about the secret lives of the characters. In Beorn the Proud readers are not disappointed when they look for unexpected insights. Throughout the developing relationship between Ness and Beorn, small acts of kindness shine through. The character’s normal actions are put aside during these moments, and a new, and wiser, part of them shines through into their choices.

Perhaps one of the most touching insights happens early in the book, when the Vikings are splitting their spoils from Ness’s village. Ness happens to see some treasures that she recognizes from her house including the necklace her mother would always wear. Overwhelmed with grief, Ness throws herself at the Vikings and shouts at them, calling them thieves, robbers, and murderers. The Vikings push her away and the more she thinks of her mother the more emotional she gets until, eventually, Ness cries herself to sleep, moaning “I saw my mother’s cross,”

When she wakes, Beorn tells her how the ships are getting ready to sail and that she is to come along with them. When she refuses, he tells her “You will come. And you may keep this.” And he gives Ness her mother’s necklace.

This small act of kindness gives the readers a small hint at a secret Beorn hidden beneath the proud boy; the Beorn who would be a kind ruler, understanding his people’s needs.

Another unexpected insight between Beorn and Ness happens a little bit later in the story, when Beorn’s father, the Sea King, dies of a wound from a raid, and Beorn goes ashore to find a sacrifice for Anlaf to help him in the afterlife. Beorn, of course, takes Ness with him and soon finds a cow to sacrifice. In his excitement, Beorn hands Ness a knife and she lifts it, ready to strike Beorn down to gain her revenge and freedom. Instead of killing him, though, she lowers the knife and gives it back to Beorn.

Although Ness wanted her freedom and vengeance for her slain family, she has a secret self that will not let her kill anyone. This secret side of Ness, also, might have started caring for Beorn.

Although the dialogue that Beorn speaks reveals himself to be proud and boastful, the insights that the author, Madeleine Polland, unexpectedly throws into the story hints at a character who will one day be a great, kind king of the Vikings; perhaps with a wise and gentle Irish queen beside him.

Beorn the Proud had a great impact on me because of the rich, descriptive dialogue and the unexpected insights that kept me guessing until the end. The end was no failure, either, and by the time I got to it I was grinning broadly and squealing for joy at the characters grand finale!

I would highly recommend this book to anyone between the ages of ten and one hundred and I guarantee that, once they appear, I will be reading this book with my children, just as my mother read Beorn the Proud with me.

Remembering Our Humanity

Remembering Our Humanity

By Molly Miller

For Richard Jordan’s Psychology Class;

Psychology of Adjustment 1611 01

April 29, 2007

What is the meaning to life? Why are we on this earth? What do we seek to accomplish? Where do we want to end up going? How do we want to get there? These questions are very common in today’s society. In a land of plenty, Americans seek to find a grander purpose to their meager existence. They want to know what they are supposed to be doing with their life, and how to get to the end fully satisfied.

In a lifetime, mankind finds he wants three things above all else; to grow within himself, to be accepted by those he loves, and to be remembered. These are goals that we all think we know how to get; yet we are traveling in the opposite direction!

While trying to get what we want most, we end up dehumanizing ourselves through the paradox of progress, analysis of outside personality traits, and the death system. These three things distract us from our most basic wants!

These basic wants first start out when we are very young. In a stage of life defined by testing boundaries, we want to learn. Throughout our childhood and teen years, we search for identity and personal growth. We want to be the best that we can be and we want to be ourselves at the same time. We look everywhere to define who we are, but we are most influenced by technology. This is the age of the internet, the television, advanced medical procedures and everything digital! We are advancing at, almost, an alarming rate, yet through this incline of technological inventions, humanity dwindles.

The growth that we seek, as humans, cannot be found in the progression of technology. This is the Paradox of Progress. This paradox starts with the question; “Are we progressing?” and brings that subject to another more pressing and complex question. Through answering the question with the thought that we as humans, and more specifically Americans, are moving forward with regards to technology and medicine, but we are taking huge steps in a backward direction when it comes to relationships, social and personal issues. So now the question becomes not ARE we progressing, but is this progression worth its cost?

Depression, disrespect towards one another, anger, greed, impurity, humanity. All of these things are what we pay for the ability to sit down at the computer and push a few buttons. Instead of developing human contact, face to face, we let our computers talk. Instead of the contentment built when we are really close to someone, we separate ourselves from them by placing a screen before our eyes and turning away from those closest to us. “Relationships almost don’t matter to them.” Lee Miller says, talking about those who seem to spend all their time surfing the internet. ( Miller) There seem to be a lot of these people; somewhere close to 1.114 billion (internet world stats).

These technology-addicts end up replacing each other by ignoring those around them and turning to CDs, iPods and computers as a way to ‘escape’ from those around them. They don’t do anything with each other anymore… they are too concerned with themselves that we don’t ‘have time’ for others. They start asking themselves, ‘what could others do so I don’t have to work so hard?’ and then they buy a bunch of technology to help them work less, therefore becoming lazy. And then it becomes all about them. They never reach out to help another and they don’t turn to each other to help either. When they have a question, they don’t ask someone, they go to Google it. When they have a free moment to themselves, they take endless surveys and repost bulletins on myspace without any thought, but they don’t think to call or visit each other to offer them a listening ear.

And then we get mad at each other… why doesn’t anyone notice? Doesn’t anybody care about me? We get stressed… we get tired and rebellious and it only drives us away from each other more.

And then we get to the matters of life and death. It’s all a power struggle for ‘humanity’ when it comes to medicine. We want to control who lives and who doesn’t. We want to develop ways to prove that a child isn’t a person until it takes its first breaths, or that we can solve any problem we want by injecting ourselves with needles. We can cure STDs, save lives and even prevent cervical cancer because ‘humans’ have that power. But we don’t realize that we create these problems in the first place and we already have a solution, we just have to realize it- and keep growing, because no matter how hard we try, we can not duplicate human life or replace those we love with machines or music.

As we grow, we find that our own personal growth is not enough. We must also have the skills to grow socially, gathering more and more friends. How we see each other becomes vital. There are two ways of seeing someone; through snap judgments, or by seeing their personality traits.

A personality trait is defined as a “durable disposition to behave in a particular way in a variety of situations.” This means that the behavior a person shows would follow through despite the situation. Unlike traits, Snap judgments are those quick little thoughts that pop into our head, on impulse, when we first see someone.

In a psychology class, this year, we were asked to describe a friend. A person raised her hand and started to list of traits of a friend of hers. She listed five traits and the first thing I noticed was that three of those five traits were negative. (Class) Why are humans so eager to point out faults in one another? Since when did this little habit come to such power that upon describing a friend, we describe not her qualities but her flaws?

In my theatre group, we are working on a style of acting called Comedia Dell’arte. It is an Italian comedy style which is also known as Comedy of Art or the Human Comedy. The characters in Comedia are many, but they each have their own weakness. Pantalone (the master) was greed, Arlechinno, Pantalone’s servant, pushed things too far, Dottore (the fat doctor who knows everything) was the need to be right always, and Capitano (the captain and protector) was a bully. Instantly, when I knew who those characters were, my mind associated them with people I knew who I see as having the same faults.

Instead of finding the qualities of my family and friends, I saw their flaws and put them in the same category as those Comedia characters whose whole personality is based on flaws. But the worst part is that I cannot find myself in the characters, or maybe I can’t find the characters inside myself. I’m so captivated with finding flaws in others, that I can’t see my own flaws. I can’t see myself as a bully or as a know-it-all or as a greedy person.

And what happens when this happens? If I see myself as better then another person, I will trust myself more then the person whom I am comparing myself to. If I see another person as the faults in him/her I will be very reluctant to let him/her have any control over me and I will push him/her away.

This habit can only lead to fallouts. Soon snap judgments turn into assumptions, which turn into misunderstandings and that becomes fights. “‘We could be such good friends if only he were this, that or the other’ is nonsense. It comes from the habit which seems now to be ingrained in human nature of persistently blaming the other man…” (Call)

Blame is the key word here. Too often we blame others for our mistakes, especially our friends. After all, they are really more likely to be wrong then we are, right? They could lie easier then we could, right? They could harm us with less reluctance, right? This leads us to conclude that we cannot trust our friends and we must always be in control of our friendship. Is this why we put others down? So we can be in control? Do we see other’s flaw so we have an excuse to be in control? So we can say to ourselves “See all their flaws? You are so much more capable of handling such a situation as this…”

One thing we don’t see, but I have been trying to learn, is that when we try to gain control of everyone, we aren’t in control of ourselves. We don’t see that we are betraying one another because we’re so engulfed in ourselves. We are loosing control of who we are, each time we say something against each other. If we are friends, then we wouldn’t say such things about each other. Did we mean to say such a thing or was it just a moment of lost control of our tongue? If we aren’t in control of ourselves, why do we think we can control others?

And if we did know what we were saying, we aren’t a true friend. Do we know if we are true friends or not? And if we do not know if we are friends, what other things are we uncertain on? If we do not know who we are, how can we think we know each other and so say such things? If I do not know what flaws are inside me, how can I know what flaws are in others? If I cannot see Comedia in me, how can I say the characters are in others? How can I be the judge? The truth is, I can’t. No one can.

We can only see ourselves fully, and throughout our lives this becomes more and more evident. We eventually grow and, whether we end up a loner or a social butterfly, we end up moving on with our lives. Yet, something gnaws at us. Suddenly, being that person who found herself no longer does not matter, nor does being right, or being the one in control. At this point, we want to be remembered. We want to know that if we disappeared, or died, someone would care. We try to imagine what it would be like; our funeral. Who would come? Who would cry? How would our loved ones handle the situation?

The Death System is a collection of rituals and procedures used by a culture to handle death. In America, these rituals include wearing all black, viewing the body one last time to say farewell and standing by the loved one’s grave while a pastor, or other religious authority, tells stories about the deceased.

While these rituals may be comforting to some, the uniformity they carry can distract from remembering the loved one as an individual. I found this especially true when I was in South Dakota for the funeral of my Grandmother, Viola.

As I observed the many rituals associated with death, I took special note of the viewing of her body and the funeral/burial. My aunt, Viola’s daughter, took the news the hardest and she wanted to do a lot of the rituals. She was the one who organized all the events, took personal responsibility for contacting everyone and took the longest moment placing her flower on the casket.

There were flowers, lots of flowers. Why do we have flowers? What comfort could they possibly bring? After all, they are only flowers, they wilt within days. They too die. They add color for a while, a little bit of pleasant aroma, but they die. Wouldn’t it be better to take comfort in something that didn’t die? But then, everything dies… so what comfort could we ever gather from anything? Yet, it is comforting to some to take a simple flower and place it upon the casket, like they are leaving a part of themselves with their loved one.

I hated the casket. The moment I saw it, I hated it. I hated how it was so small and so… uniform… each of those boxes were the same size, the same design, the same everything. It was sad really. They were made without thought, without care, just to place some dead body that they didn’t know into it so that person could be buried and put out of sight. Once the lid is closed, that’s it. Into the ground they go, so alone, so void of feeling.

Even the person inside the casket is turned into a ritual. They are cleaned, sewn into a uniform pose and placed in the casket. When I saw my grandmother in the casket, all I could think of was ‘that’s not her. What have they done to her? She’s not here.’ I heard my aunt tell my grandpa after she got back from doing my grandma’s hair, “She looks beautiful, dad. She really does.” I smiled because I wanted her to be beautiful. But when I saw her, she looked like a doll with a stone face. There was nothing beautiful in her, because her beauty was her strength. She fought long and hard and with beauty and strength. Lying in her casket, there was none of that. She was gone. She left only a shell that could not even compare with her. It wasn’t her; it was some strange doll in its box. Like a collectible Barbie doll.

The ceremonies themselves were very ritualistic. We said prayers, we sang songs, we told stories, and at the center of it all was the casket, filled with stuff that we put in it. One of my cousins put a cross inside with my grandma’s body; another drew a picture and put it inside. My sister and I wrote poems and put them inside the box. But I knew she would never get to read them, so I don’t know why I did it. Even her body would never touch the paper or see the picture or admire the cross.

And when the family read my poem, they cried. Everyone cried. I’ve now seen people cry whom I’d never be able to imagine crying. My father, grandfather, countless aunts and uncles and cousins… My aunt, who took it so hard, at one time just sat upon my grandmother’s bed, holding the pink pillow that held Viola’s head as she died, and cried in my grandfather’s arms. He held her close, of course, but his presence wasn’t enough to fill the presence that was gone. My little brother cried, his head in his hand, at the funeral. My father cried for his mother, my mother cried for her mother-in-law. I was asked if I had cried yet. I said no. It was then that crying just became another ritual. As if crying would help me feel better, as if it would comfort me and it was something that *had* to be done. Well, it was a ritual I never took part in.

When I’m really sad about something, my reaction naturally is to grow silent and tired. I grow weary and watchful. But unless I’m extremely tired, I don’t cry. I will bawl like a fool at the littlest things in life, but the big things, like death, I face with dry eyes. I’m sure if I had witnessed my grandmother’s death, I would cry. If I had seen her before the rituals, I wouldn’t have felt like crying was a ritual. I would have wept for her, and for the farewell.

Seeing my grandmother in a casket wasn’t farewell. You see, she was gone, so how could I say goodbye? She couldn’t hear me, she couldn’t see me, and she didn’t even know I was there. For all that was in me, I couldn’t figure out why the funeral was even taking place at all!

Looking back on it, I remember thinking “Why am I wearing black and purple? Grandma’s favorite color was red…” And now I know. My aunt’s favorite color was purple. The funeral was not intended to say goodbye to my Grandmother at all, but to comfort my aunt, and all the other members of my family, as they grieved. That included me. Only, those rituals did not help me one bit. They made me feel awkward and deceptive, for not sending Vi off with what she would have wanted.

I suppose it didn’t matter to her anyway, since she was dead, but it mattered to me that we hadn’t treated her as anything but a tool for comfort. Like our comfort was more important then her individualism.

How will we be remembered? Will our loved ones see how much we’ve grown by looking out at the technology we used? Will they see how much we loved them by looking at the judgments we made of them? Will they remember or forget us while they mourn? Certainly they would rather look at how we lived our lives, how we showed them that we grew and that we loved! The Paradox of Progress, Snap Judgments, and the Death System all distract us from where we want to go… where we want to end up.

After all, we can’t replace those we love with machines, become the judge over them or even force them to remember us without loosing our compassion and humanity. And that is what matters most- what we should be striving for.

Works Cited:

Call, Annie Payson. How To Live Quietly. Boston: Little, Brown and Company. 1914.

Internet World Stats. INTERNET USAGE STATISTICS – The Big Picture.” March 19, 2007 http://www.internetworldstats.com/stats.htm

Miller, Lee A. “Technology vs. Relationships; Embrace change or get out of the way.” May 01, 2005.

Parallels between the Salem Witch Trials and the McCarthy Era

Faith, Freedom, and Fear;

Parallels between the Salem Witch Trials and the McCarthy Era

By Molly Miller


February 1 2008



Just as faith was central to the government of Salem in 1692, the foundation of the government of the USA in 1947 was freedom. Both faith and freedom are personal and vary on the individual, yet both were judged and, in an effort to control its people, the governments of both times tried many people and accused them of horrible things. In Arthur Miller’s “The Crucible” Miller makes reference to these parallels, showing how the events leading up to the trials were parallel, the trials unjust and biased, and the punishments harsh.

In “The Crucible” the case of witchery within Salem was brought up when two of the village children became ill. The two little girls fell sick after observing the older girls from Salem dance in the woods; a practice that was forbidden by the church. They were, in their sickness, described as asleep and could not be wakened. Fearful for their children, the adults of the Salem community cried out against those whom they thought caused the illness.

Likewise, the United States citizens looked at Russia and saw the ‘illness’ that lay within it. A lot of what Americans looked to in Russia was how their children were treated. In one of the trials, Ayn Rand (being from Russia) criticized a movie’s portrayal of Russian children because of their nice clothing and smiling faces. She said “I don't know whose children they are, but they are really happy kiddies. They are not homeless children in rags, such as I have seen in Russia.” And then later, when asked if Russian children smiled at all she replied “Well, if you ask me literally, pretty much no.” (CNN.com)

Because of the view that the people in Russia were suppressed and their children suffering, Americans became afraid for their own children and began searching out the “witches” of America; the communists, who were to blame for Russia’s unhealthy conditions.

Once the people of Salem were convinced that witches were to blame, they stopped at nothing to find out who was “in contract” with the devil and purging Satan out either by public confession or death. They did this by holding “trials” in which the accused were not able to defend themselves, but rather, were given the choice to either confess or die. Many witnesses were called against the accused, but none dare defend them.

In America, the trials were much alike. There was often more effort to prove the accused guilty than there was to prove innocence. That is because none dare stand up for the accused, for fear of being accused themselves.

What did they have to fear? Shouldn’t the truth weigh more than the punishment? Well in this case, the punishment for those found guilty could be very severe. In Salem, the punishment was death. If there was someone who was accused and did not confess to being so, it was thought that they (and Satan with them) must be purged from the community.

It was very similar in the McCarthy era. Those who were Communists, the Americans thought, needed to get off American streets. So a system was set up where, if a person was labeled as a Communist, their name would go on the “black list” which was set up to warn people against hiring them or affiliating with them. If those Communists weren’t lucky enough to get by with being put on the “black list” they would be arrested, tried and thrown in jail. In New Rochelle, New York all known Communists were required to register with the police, pay $100 in fines and serve a 180 day sentence in jail for every day they remained in town. (“The Age of McCarthyism”)

With such unfair trials and harsh punishments in both times, it’s no wonder so many people did everything they could to avoid being accused, even if it meant snitching on their friends or putting the blame on others to distract from themselves.

Certainly there are many parallels between the Salem Witch Trials and the McCarthy era. The events leading up to the trials, the unfair and biased trials, and the harsh punishments are only a few links between them; there is one more I’d like to talk about briefly and that is the lesson we can learn.

We can learn the same lesson from Salem and America. What is that lesson? We shouldn’t let our fear blind us towards humanity. In Salem they should have remembered that everyone has doubts in their faith once in a while (it is part of being a sinful human) and that, because we fail in that area as well, we are not to judge each other’s faith. In America, we should have looked past what “party” someone belongs to and only concern ourselves if the individual’s actions were suspicious.

Either way, judging someone requires much more than a few quick snapshots or labels. We are all as human as the person standing next to us and we must always remember to treat each other according to how we would like to be treated. If you would not like to die, shamed, or even fined on another person’s accusation and fear, do not accuse them out of fear. “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” (Matthew 7:12)

Works Cited

CNN Interactive; Historical documents; episode 6: the Cold War. Ayn Rand’s testimony at the HUAC hearings. http://www.cnn.com/SPECIALS/cold.war/episodes/06/documents/huac/

“The Age of McCarthyism; a brief history with documents. Second edition.” By Ellen Schrecker

http://books.google.com/books?id=Ysn9iZWJXKUC&pg=PA83&lpg=PA83&dq=jail+sentences+for+communists+mccarthy+age&source=web&ots=kZk7Y7vYsl&sig=IiKJqzXrqgKyoenctRG7OpyBSCc#PPP1,M1

Matthew 7:12 Quote by Jesus

The Bible

Bram Stoker’s Dracula and the Byronic Hero

The Shadow of a Hero:

Bram Stoker’s Dracula and the Byronic Hero


by Molly Miller


April 28 2008

Something comes in the night; a creature of darkness enveloped in an eerie green glow around his black-as-midnight cloak. His whole being, skin, hair, eyes, and clothes, are darker than the nightmare that brings him. You scream, not because of the darkness of his being, for if that were all he was, his approach would have been unseen. You scream at the appearance of two long, ivory fangs as they descend upon your neck…

What kind of creature is this? What human or animal would lure innocents into the curse of eternity on earth, thinking only of the hunger within? He is Dracula, which is the ancient Rumanian word for “devil” (Skal 10). The name of its species, Vampire, is also a dark word referring to evil spirits. According to Nina Auerbach, “the Oxford English Dictionary records, in 1734, defines them as ‘evil spirits’ who animate ‘bodies of deceased persons’” (Auerbach 20).

In modern times, society defines a “vampire” as a blood-sucking, un-dead, half-bat/half-person lurking about in shadows and seducing humans in order to feed upon them. They get this image from the novel “Dracula” by Bram Stoker. From Lon Chaney to Christopher Lee to Leslie Nielsen, this image has been used so often in the media that it has seeped into the modern mindset. However, the Romantic fascination with the macabre presents a different picture of the famous Count. Impossible as it sounds,

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Dracula, prince of Transylvania, becomes a hero. During the early Romantic period, the poet Lord Byron defined a new kind of hero. Bram Stoker’s character, Dracula, proves himself to be Byronic hero through his characteristics and actions. Before one can analyze Dracula as a Byronic hero, it is important to understand what a Byronic hero is. Then a comparison needs to be made between Dracula and the Byronic hero with his traits of dark personality, manic tendencies, arrogant airs, pride, a history of sexual deviancy, and a societal rebellion. The social behaviors a Byronic hero possesses are generally detrimental to the community as a whole. The Byronic hero is usually a rebel isolated from society (either physically or mentally) who rejects the values and moral codes of society (Norton 1455). Through careful evaluation of his characteristics and actions, it is evident that Dracula is, indeed, a Byronic hero.

Lord Byron, born in January 22, 1788, was disfigured with a club foot. Many wicked rumors surrounded his childhood, including sexual tensions between him and his nurse. As an adult, he wrote many poems that dealt with themes that reflected the difficulties of his childhood. Throughout his poems, as he dealt with his own inner demons, his heroes consistently had the same characteristics, from which grew the standards of a Byronic hero (Goodwin).

The first of these characteristics is a general dark personality. Archetypically, light is considered good and dark, bad. A hero is generally thought to have a certain brightness to him. When people say they want a “knight in shining armor” they usually mean they want a hero who radiates his inner qualities of strength, honor, and integrity. A hero is pure of heart, one who will always do the right thing; who will protect and defend the weak, such as King Arthur, Superman, or Frodo Baggins. For Byron, it was the

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other way around. His inspiration was Lucifer, the “angel of light” who rebelled against God. The Romantics loved Milton’s characterization of Satan, the mighty, but flawed “hero” of Paradise Lost because of his power and grandeur, but also because of his flaws and humanity. “It was precisely this aspect of flawed grandeur, however, that made Satan so attractive a model for Shelley’s friend Byron in his projects of personal myth-making.” Byron’s heroes were dark, mysterious, unpredictable, and used to explore the dark recesses of the human subconscious (Norton).

Dracula is no exception. No one within Stoker’s novel seems able to predict Dracula’s next move. He is a man of secrets shrouded in the vast abyss of his own mind. Stoker does not reveal Dracula’s mind in his book so the reader never quite knows his side of the story. Very few of his thoughts are revealed except through the little dialogue Stoker grants to Dracula. In one instance, Dracula tells Harker a little bit about himself. He uses his castle as a metaphor for himself when he explains, “The walls of my castle are broken; the shadows are many, and the wind breathes cold through the broken battlements and casements. I love the shade and the shadow and would be alone with my thoughts when I may” (29). Within this piece of dialogue, Dracula reveals a sense of frightening history that lives within his castle; “battlements” and “casements” being medieval, at least primitive, designs that bring the imagination of the reader back in time to a place of enchanted beasts and daring knights. Because Dracula loves “the shade and the shadow” the reader is left guessing at whether Dracula could be an enchanted beast or

a daring knight. The thoughts that occupy Dracula’s mind while he is alone are never explained, therefore, the reader must struggle to discover the true identity of Dracula.

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Jonathan Harker, the Count’s solicitor, has the opportunity to observe Dracula closer than any other character. He seems to recognize Dracula’s mania, from his eerie calm and polite tones to his aggressive outbursts. When Harker first arrives at the castle,

it seems that Dracula is almost too polite, too calm, and too ready with a reasonable answer for the odd occurrences in Transylvania. Because of this, Harker finds himself torn between the Count’s rationale and his worst fears and suspicions. Harker has no idea what Dracula intends for him and the unknown terrifies him because it is as unpredictable as the man himself.

Byron’s heroes were as unpredictable as the sea with its sudden chaotic outbursts and lethal storms. These deadly impulses were even more petrifying because of the serenity that Byronic heroes normally displayed. They preferred to keep their emotions secret, but when the rage surfaced, it left the observer exclaiming “Never did I imagine such wrath and fury, even to the demons of the pit” (43). This statement comes from a scene in which Dracula finds his vixens (the female vampires) claiming Harker as their prey. Harker describes the terror:

I saw his strong hand grasp the slender neck of the fair woman and with giant’s power draw it back, the blue eyes transformed with fury…His eyes were positively blazing. The red light in them was lurid, as if the flames of hell-fire blazed behind them. With a fierce sweep of his arm, he hurled the woman from him, and then motioned to the others, as though he were beating them back; it was the same imperious gesture that I had seen used to the wolves. (43)

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The anger Dracula displayed, which made even the vixens uneasy, was itself subject to another force common in Byronic heroes. There was another reason, besides the fact that the vixens would have drunk Harker’s blood, behind Dracula’s anger. Nina Auerbach explains that “the heart of Dracula was not blood, but an assertion of ownership” (Auerbach 71) telling the vixens that “this man belongs to me” (43).

Dracula’s claim that Harker belonged to him comes from nothing if not arrogance. The free dictionary defines arrogance in two ways: the first is “having or displaying a sense of overbearing self-worth or self-importance.” The second definition is “Marked by or arising from a feeling or assumption of one's superiority toward others.” This arrogance is a result of the pride Dracula highly treasured which was built upon the history of his family. He engrossed himself in the remembering and retelling of battles and great victories. Dracula spent many nights teaching Harker about the Transylvanian history and told him that “to a boyar (that is, a nobleman or prince) the pride of his house and name is his own pride, that their glory is his glory, that their fate is his fate” (33).

Dracula was a proud man of an esteemed family and he was not afraid to make others aware of that fact. He considered himself the master of the people living in Transylvania which, for the time being, meant Harker as well. As long as Harker was on Dracula’s property, he was his property and nothing more. Dracula had the right to use Harker to progress his plans and decide whether Harker lives or dies. To demonstrate his power, Dracula stole into the house of Mina, Harker’s fiancée, bit her, and forced her to drink his blood. This strange ritual seemed to be a type of marriage as he says, “And you, their best beloved one, are now to me, flesh of my flesh; blood of my blood; kin of my kin; my bountiful wine-press for awhile; and shall be later on my companion and my helper” (252).

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This is just one example of the odd sexual behaviors Dracula practices. This deviancy was concealed to all but his three concubines. These secrets are referenced when Dracula reprimands his vixens. When accused of never having loved anything, Dracula replied “Yes, I too can love; you yourselves can tell it from the past. Is it not

so?” (37). Now, the word love can have many meanings, so it is hard to tell to what Dracula is actually referring.

Since Dracula is a hero, it may be tempting to think he means the love of a knight to his lady; with undying servitude or with his life pledged away to complete feats of daring deeds for her. However, considering Dracula’s lifestyle, this is not the case. It’s more likely that the “love” Dracula speaks of really means “the emotion of sex and romance” (The Free Dictionary). The way he says this line pointedly to the vixens could mean that his “love” was for them, or his victims that they watched him devour. Love, for Dracula, could mean a way to entice his prey into his trap. Nina Auerbach puts it best when she says “intimacy and friendship are the lures of Romantic vampirism” (Auerbach 14). Vampires from the Romanic period often used homoerotic friendships to find victims from the intimates of the ones “befriended”. These victims were always women from whom blood was drunk. The vampires did not drink the blood of men, but seemed truly interested in a relationship (16-17).

With this repulsive villainy, Dracula could hardly be considered a hero, yet Byron identified with him and wanted to justify his own actions. Many, if not all, of Byron’s heroes had some sort of un-named sexual crime in their past. Byron, himself, had a childhood tainted with sexuality and the loss of innocence, and he wrote about what he knew. As for Dracula, a sexually immoral, even criminal, past is very possible, considering his sexual feats during the course of Stoker’s novel.

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First, Dracula has his vixens. What he does with the vixens is never explained, though they themselves are very sex-driven. When Harker first sees the creatures, he describes them in great detail.

There was something about them that made me uneasy, some longing and at the same time some deadly fear. I felt in my heart a wicked, burning desire that they would kiss me with those red lips. It is not good to note this down, lest some day it should meet Mina’s eyes and cause her pain; but it is the truth. They whispered together, and then they all three laughed- such a silvery, musical laugh, but as hard as though the sound never could have come through the softness of human lips. It was like the intolerable, tingling sweetness of water-glasses when played on by a cunning hand.” (43)

Dracula also flirts with the character Lucy. At the beginning of the book Mina sees Lucy “half reclining with her head lying over the back of the seat” and a figure, whom she could not tell if it was man or beast, hovering over Lucy (88). This scene is very sexually suggestive and the figure is most likely Dracula. As the story continues, Dracula pursues Lucy, continually sucking her blood until she joins the realm of the un-dead.

This sexuality, and the other characteristics of a Byronic hero, produces an interesting reaction from both the characters of the book and most readers. Readers see him as a figure of both repulsion and fascination. The repulsion grows naturally. When a character is so dark and insidious to do things that trigger a shudder through the reader’s conscious, it is predictable that they should want to have nothing to do with that so-called “hero”. The other characters in Stoker’s novel were repelled by him as well. For example,

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Harker needed to search the sleeping Count in order to find the key to the castle and his freedom. He reflected upon his feelings toward his host. “I shuddered,” Harker writes “as I bent over to touch him, and every sense in me revolted at the contact; but I had to

search, or I was lost” (53). This reaction is understandable and predictable but it was not Harker’s first response. His initial reaction, a deep desire to know more about the Count, bordered on the obsessive.

Although repulsed by the Byronic hero, many readers feel a strange longing to figure him out; the Byronic hero becomes a figure of fascination. David Skal states truthfully “Dracula has exerted an irresistible, and at times, Faustian attraction upon numerous individuals” (Skal 7). Faust is an old story of a man who sold his soul to the devil to acquire knowledge and power. Skal refers to the same fascination with Dracula that people have had with Faust for hundreds of years. Hermann Weigand, in his critical essay about Faust, explains the romantic view of Faust, “The age of the Reformation saw the career of Faust as an object lesson and a warning. To the age of Goethe it was natural, on the other hand, to look upon the doctor-magician as a blurred and distorted prototype of man’s ideal aspirations” (447). This is the quest of the Byronic hero, the quintessential romantic, to “trespass upon the realm of the forbidden” (447) and discover a way to express “altered and expanded aspirations of the human soul” (446).

While most heroes uphold the morals needed to keep a society functioning, and help preserve ideals and hope, the Byronic hero is quite the opposite. Likewise, Dracula does not like to be under the authority of anyone. He says “I have been so long master

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that I would be master still- or at least that none other should be master of me” (26). His rebellion, though more subtle, is also more deadly. Carol A. Senf talks about the dangers

of Dracula’s rebellious nature in a short critique of Stoker’s Novel called “Dracula: The Unseen Face in the Mirror.”

Dracula is dangerous because he expresses his contempt for authority in the most individualistic of ways- through his sexuality. In fact, his thirst for blood and the manner in which he satisfies this thirst can be interpreted as sexual desire which fails to observe any of society’s attempt to control it-prohibitions against polygamy, promiscuity, and homosexuality.

(Senf 428)

Because Dracula refuses to observe the moral codes and values of society (just like a true Byronic hero would) he is hunted down and punished. Although some laws may seem stifling to individuals, a set of rules of some kind are needed to make a community work. When someone, or rather something, comes along to disrupt that, and tries to dissolve that moral code, the whole community is threatened. When that happens, the whole community rallies against the rebellious creature and punishes it.

At first, Dracula was merely reprimanded through isolation. No one would go near his castle for fear of the rumors about him. They would even warn other people not to go near his castle because the things Dracula did in that castle was beyond comprehension. The only time Stoker reports a villager choosing to wander near the castle was when Dracula had taken a child from the village and fed it to his vixens. The mother of the child stood outside the castle beating her hands against the door and crying out “Monster, give me my child!” Dracula then calls his wolves and lets them eat the woman (48).

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This is where the line is drawn. From the scene above, it is evident how far Dracula is willing to take his rebellion. It is not enough that he rejects moral codes or values; he must also reject the value of life itself. How can a hero, even a Byronic hero,

disregard life itself? At this point in Stoker’s novel, the hero in Dracula melts away, leaving room only for the Vampyre- the monster.

Dracula seems content to take away life without any thought and that is what seems to bring about his final punishment. Harker, Mina, and others who were most

affected by Dracula’s rebellion, resolve to find him and destroy him forever. Now the powerful boyar, who once was a hero, is hunted like the beast he truly is.

Like the old stories, the truly good seek to bring the monster to justice. Like the old stories, Dracula flees to the safety of his home and fakes a show of confidence, hissing at the traditional heroes. Like the old stories, the traditional heroes pursue the fiend until he is defeated.

Unlike the old stories, the line between hero and monster is blurred. Traditionally, the villain receives justice through death and eternal punishment. For Romantics like Byron, morals and justice are not valued as highly as self-discovery as the hero and monster co-exist in all people. As long as the hero finds his identity in whatever means necessary, rebellion, deviancy, pride, rule of emotion, or even destruction, his actions are valid. In the end, Dracula received death of a true Byronic hero, justice for the monster but peace for the hero.

Works Cited

Auerbach, Nina. Our Vampires, Ourselves. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press,

1995.

The Free Dictionary. The American Heritage Dictionary. Fourth Edition. Houghton

Mifflin Company. 2003. .

Goodwin, B. Lou. The Most Famous English Poets. Helium.

<http://www.helium.com/items/788589-byron-known-george-gordon>

Norton Anthology of English Literature. Major Authors edition. New York: W. W.

Norton & Company. 1968.

Norton Anthology of English Literature. Norton Topics Online. Satan and Byronic Hero:

Overview. W. W. Norton Company. 2003.

<http://www.wwnorton.com/college/english/nael/romantic/topic_5/welcome.htm>.

Senf, Carol A. “Dracula: The Unseen Face in the Mirror.” Dracula. New York: W.W.

Norton & Company, 1997.

Skal, David J. Hollywood Gothic. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 1990.

Stoker, Bram. Dracula. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 1997.

Weigand, Hermann. “Goethe’s Faust: An Introduction for Students and Teachers of

General Literature.” Faust A Norton Critical Edition. New York: W. W. Norton

& Company, 1976.

Exploring Criminalism in the Twilight Saga

Shedding Light on Vampire Characters


by Molly Miller



I went to Barnes and Nobles this afternoon to spend a $50 gift card that I had gotten as a (VERY generous) thank you for working on Hello Dolly. As I eagerly pushed through the doorway, almost knocking down a couple people, I stopped short at the first display I saw before me. Of course, with all the posters advertising the arrival of Stephanie Meyer’s new book, it should not have surprised me to see “Twilight”, “New Moon”, and “Eclipse” propped up in the center of the store.

There were other teen vampire novels displayed with Meyer’s books. More, in fact, than I ever knew existed! And, as I walked through the aisles, I noticed that vampires had slipped into many, many sections of books. Why this fascination with the undead creatures of the night? This question made me recall some human characteristics I learned about during school.

This past semester I took an English course that focused a lot on the book “Dracula” by Bram Stoker. During the span of that class, I researched and learned more about vampires than I ever wanted to know! I will tell you right now; I am not a fan of vampires. I’ve seen too many people sucked (no pun intended) into the vampire “culture” to really have any desire to pick up Meyer, Stoker, or any of the other authors of this subject.

There seem to be enough people to disagree with me, however, to keep vampires as alive as they can be. Why? Why do people love to fall in love with vampires? Why are vampires associated with things sexy, appealing, and obsession-worthy? Why are we so intent on falling in love with Edward Cullen? Why are we drawn to Dracula? How can a monster that survives by feasting on innocent children ever appear even slightly attractive?

I think there are two reasons we become enamored with vampires. The first reason is we are hopeless romantics at the core and vampires possess traits humans, particularly females, look for in a romantic relationship. The second reason is we identify with the darkness of vampirical characters and defend their actions in an effort to justify our own.

The first is easier for people to admit. Every girl I know, who has read Meyer’s books, admitted to me that she found Edward attractive to her. In fact, most would do little less than swoon at the mention of him. He is strong, fast, beautiful, protective, and mysterious. All of these qualities women find attractive. They are also qualities commonly found in Vampirical characters. Dracula, the epitome of all vampires, possessed all of those qualities, making him an attractive figure to both Stoker’s other characters and Stoker’s audience. Dracula was also a master of unpredictability. No one knew when Dracula was about to strike. Not even Dracula’s brides knew when they were about to feel his rage; a rage that could strike fear into the heart of even the bravest creature.

As weird as it may sound, most women look for an unpredictable, mysterious, and powerful air in a man. Dracula, Edward, and other vampires possess that air and, because of that, many girls have crushes on vampires. Sometimes, they are so wrapped up in the vampire’s aesthetically pleasing features that they ignore the aspects that make a vampire a monster. If all a vampire did was walk around being aesthetically pleasing and occasionally showing a few displays of his power, he would not be a vampire. A lot of people forget the terrible actions of a vampire. In a dreamy eyed look at Dracula, Stoker’s romantic audience fails to remember that Dracula is a thief, murderer, rapist, sexual deviant, and a true monster who believes humans are his “wine-press” and who chooses children with which to feed his minions.

Now, I understand that Edward is not portrayed as being a “monster”. In fact, much of his struggle is to stay away from his vampire instincts. He does this by staying away from human blood and only drinking animal blood. Now, ASPCA thoughts aside, we must wonder why he is portrayed as making that “heroic” decision. I do not mean, why does Edward choose to forbid himself from drinking human blood, but why did Meyer choose to give him a more thoroughly intact conscience than his co-vampires? Could it be that Meyer was trying to justify vampirical actions by saying “it was not their choice”?

By siding with Edward, are we agreeing with the idea that no matter how evil you are you can still do good if you choose? Are we agreeing that it is ok to slip once in a while if you are predisposed to a certain evil act? And from where did this idea of morality come anyway? How could someone, who was brought up on the idea of vampirism and who had a calling to blood, suddenly decide all of that was not morally correct?

If we were to take the same ideas portrayed through Edward and apply them to crimes other than drinking blood, like rape or kidnapping, would we feel differently? Would someone with crimes closer to home be hailed as a hero in the same way as vampires are? The truth is vampires often did rape their victims before drinking their blood. In “Dracula” victims of vampires are raped, tortured, kidnapped (infants and children included), and eventually made into a creature that did the exact same thing to others that was done to them.

We must see vampires in truth. It is dangerous for us to ignore vampirical deeds because of how “attractive” they are. Words, as subtle as they can be, have an amazing power to either portray truth in all honesty, or cover it entirely. The latter is what we want to avoid. In 1734 a vampire was described as an evil spirit (from hell) that animated bodies of deceased persons. It is not good to glorify evil spirits. We should not make vampires seem like “good guys in disguise.” When we do, we blur the line of good or evil and that is a dangerous path on which to walk.

The evolution of the moral dilemma within the story of Amleth, Hamlet, and The Lion King

Nothing New Under the Sun:
The evolution of the moral dilemma within the story of Amleth, Hamlet, and The Lion King.

by Molly Miller

May 7 2009

What do a medieval pyromaniac, a suicidal renaissance prince, and a guilty lion have in common? They are all versions of the story of Hamlet. They all tell the story of a protagonist and his quest to find peace after the death of his father. In many ways, these three versions are very similar, yet they each have at least one distinguishing feature: the use of morals. The moral dilemma that underlines the story of Hamlet makes the story applicable throughout the ages. From the middle ages to the modern age, Hamlet’s story has shifted to connect their audiences with Shakespeare’s play. The progress from subconscious morality, to mental morality, to moral responsibility foreshadows a continued evolution of this story and a continual reliance on the brilliant classics of yesterday.

The story of a young prince seeking vengeance for crimes committed by his uncle against his father and mother did not originate in Shakespeare’s imagination. Shakespeare wrote Hamlet after reading a classic medieval story called the Histoires Tragiques which was based on an even older story about a young prince of Denmark written by Saxo Grammaticus (Shapiro, 285-286). Saxo Grammaticus’ story explored the life and actions of Amleth, prince of Denmark. It begins by explaining how Amleth’s uncle, Feng, was jealous of Amleth’s father and so killed him, taking Gerutha, Amleth’s mother, against her will to be his bride. Feng doesn’t bother to cover up his actions, moving Amleth to avenge his parents. Because Feng’s treacherous actions are not hidden in this version, there is no need for trial or confirmation of suspicion: the whole court already knows Feng is guilty. There is no question in Amleth’s mind about whether or not he should kill his uncle and reclaim the throne of Denmark. Amleth’s sense of moral duty is all based on subconscious impulses which motivate immediate action.

Amleth does not need to think about whether killing his uncle is right or wrong because in the medieval culture, heroic actions such as boldness and cunning were valued over deep thought. As Stephan Greenblatt says in his book Will in the world, “everyone in this pre-Christian world of treachery and vengeance understood that a son must avenge his father’s murder” (303). A good reputation was so important in Amleth’s time that it was even held with more value than individual lives. It was more important for Amleth to regain his parents’ honor than for him to try and keep everyone alive. This is most clearly shown by the fact that Amleth did not just kill his uncle. Amleth set all of Feng’s nobles on fire and destroyed all of them before exacting his revenge on his uncle. As the story goes, Amleth, “awakening his uncle, he told him that his nobles were perishing in the flames, and that Amleth was here, armed… and thirsting to exact the vengeance, now long overdue” (5). His revenge completed, Amleth was praised for his bravery. He had regained, and even added to, his parents’ honor and could then live in peace.

Early medieval literature is filled with stories like Saxo Grammaticus’ which, in the renaissance, were known as revenge tragedies. Renaissance writers, who were concerned with going back to classic themes and ideas, were inspired by these stories, focusing on revenge as the main movie for their protagonist’s action (Griswold, 58). William Shakespeare, one of the most prominent writers of the renaissance, was intrigued by the motive of revenge, exploring it in his play Hamlet, which is directly inspired by the story of Amleth. The basic plot is the same as the first half of Amleth’s story. Yet Shakespeare noticed how easily and thoughtlessly the characters of the medieval revenge tragedies rushed into vengeance and he questioned the wisdom of such rash actions. Instead, Shakespeare favored the idea of mental morality, giving the protagonist the ability and longing to choose his own moral path.

This is where Shakespeare splits away from Saxo Grammaticus. Instead of making Hamlet instinctively accept the call to avenge his father’s “foul and most unnatural murther” (I.v.25), Shakespeare created Hamlet as a studious and ponderous man who is very unsure about what his next move should be. Jonathan Bate describes Shakespeare’s decision to forsake the old idea that revenge is not a choice as what makes Hamlet original:

"There can be little doubt that Shakespeare’s innovation in Hamlet was to take the figure of the revenger from the old play and turn him into an intellectual, so making revenge into a moral dilemma as opposed to a practical task to be carried out through effective plotting. Hamlet’s problem is that his intelligence makes him see both sides of every question, whereas in the drama of revenge there is no place for debate and half measure" (xii).

Throughout the play, Hamlet is called to actions many times yet does not act without first profusely debating the goodness of the action. The main action Hamlet debates is, of course, whether or not to kill his uncle as the ghost demands. This is a complicated choice because Hamlet is unsure that the ghost is even real. If Hamlet only dreamt the visitation, then the killing of his uncle would be murder without a cause and completely immoral. On that basis, Hamlet should not listen to the ghost and should leave his uncle alone. Yet if the ghost is real and Hamlet does not heed its warning, he would be letting his uncle get away with murder and incestuous marriage which would go against Hamlet’s heightened sense of justice. This uncertainty remains unresolved for the majority of the play, inspiring many smaller moral dilemmas. William Smeaton, who wrote many notes about the play, found “no fewer than six subordinate plots, all intimately bearing on the main one whether or not the Prince can bring himself to avenge his father” (xxv). The Ghost’s own longing for revenge, Claudius’ manipulation of Polonius to figure out Hamlet’s feigned madness, Gertrude’s attempts to patch things up between Claudius and Hamlet, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern’s efforts to understand Hamlet’s insanity, Laertes own revenge for Polonius’ death, and Fortibras’ endeavor to take over Denmark are all sub-plots related to Hamlet’s indecisiveness.

As Hamlet ponders his dilemma a new option emerges and inspires a whole new train of thought. He contemplates suicide. Unsure whether he really can make a wise decision, Hamlet ponders the option that would remove the responsibility from his own shoulders. By taking his own life, Hamlet would be freed from having to take anyone else’s life. What saves Hamlet’s life is the fear that he would go to hell. Ironically, this is the exact opposite that keeps Hamlet from killing Claudius at the opportune moment later on in the play. Claudius is at his prayers, or so it appears, which would ensure his ticket to heaven if killed. Jonathan Bate explains the reason Hamlet did not strike Claudius then: “the code of revenge requires Hamlet not to kill Claudius because that would send him straight to heaven, which does not correspond to the fate of Old Hamlet” (xii). Old Hamlet was in purgatory because Claudius murdered him without allowing him time to confess his sins. Since his father was not given that luxury, Hamlet did not wish to give Claudius the luxury of confession and absolution. Hamlet’s revenge would be all or nothing: either a death in the physical and spiritual sense, or none at all.

Hamlet’s mental morality leads to an extensive period of inaction. In fact, most of Hamlet’s actions are only set into motion when others act first. This is especially true of the final duel between Laertes and Hamlet. The death of Claudius, the completion of the revenge, would never had occurred if Laertes and Claudius hadn’t planned the duel or poisoned the tip of Laertes’ sword and the wine Gertrude drank. Only through the forcing of his hand does Hamlet go through with the revenge. Once his hand is forced, Hamlet’s mental morals are set firmly against Claudius and all those who stand with him. Whether father of his love or friend from his youth, if they plot with Claudius, they will die with Claudius. Unfortunately, in Hamlet that is what happens. Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and Polonius all side with Claudius, forcing Hamlet to detach himself from them. To Horatio, he says “they are not near my conscience” (V.ii.58), dismissing them from friendship.

With such a harsh result of Hamlet’s mental morality, it may come as a surprise to learn that his moral dilemma inspired one of the best animated films of all time: Walt Disney’s The Lion King. According to producer Don Hahn, The Lion King was mainly inspired by two stories: Disney’s own Bambi, which inspired a coming of age aspect within the story, and Hamlet, which served as inspiration for the main plotline. In the early stages of the film it was decided that Hamlet should play a great role in the film and, as Allan Neuwirth records, “Jeffery Katzenburg (Chief Executive Officer for the Walt Disney Company) even asked them to put in as much Hamlet as they could” (149). The connection is obvious: like Hamlet, The Lion King focuses on Simba, a young prince, whose uncle kills his father and seizes the crown and the kingdom. Both princes see a vision of their deceased fathers, who tell them to “remember who you are” (The Lion King) and inspire them to fight their usurping uncles. The theme of revenge plays a significant role mainly at the end of The Lion King when Simba and his uncle, Scar, finally confront one another. Throughout the rest of the movie Simba is not, as Amleth was, itching for revenge. Neither is he, like Hamlet, drawing out long debates about whether revenge is right or wrong. Instead, Simba spends the bulk of the movie running from his past and trying to escape it.

Like Shakespeare, who took inspiration from his primary source but made it his own, the writers of The Lion King, Irene Mecchi and Jonathan Roberts, took elements of Hamlet and made it their own. Disney added a new subplot, resulting in a new view of moral responsibility. When Simba’s father, Mufassa, dies, Scar convinces Simba that he is to blame and running away is the only reasonable thing to do. That is what Simba does; eventually learning to push the guilt away by pretending the past never happened. This mindset, characterized by the phrase “hakuna matata” or “no worries” was taught to him by new friends, Timon and Pumbaa. His time with them, away from his family, teaches him to suppress all moral conscience, the opposite of Hamlet, whose conscience was perhaps too fully developed. In the end it is the old baboon, Rafiki, friend and counselor to Mufassa, who leads Simba to his father again and reminds Simba of his duty to himself and his prideland.

After Simba is reminded of his duty and assured that his father wishes him to return to Pride Rock, Simba leaves. Once in his devastated land, the king in Simba sparks to life. He is not motivated to reclaim his father’s land by the injustice done to his father, but to his pride. Simba’s morals are attuned to his princely duty, something Hamlet seems to neglect within Shakespeare’s play. Simba is mainly concerned with keeping his pride alive, rather than the death which both Amleth and Hamlet are focused on. While Amleth looks for the opportunity to kill his uncle, and Hamlet debates the killing many times over, Simba lets scar go when he has the chance to kill him. Instead of killing Scar, Simba echoes the words he had been told as a child: “Run away… Run away and never come back” (The Lion King).

The main reason Simba is more merciful than Amleth and Hamlet is because The Lion King was written for children. A lot of the themes of revenge, jealousy, and dealing with death remain the same throughout Saxo Grammaticus’ story of Amleth, Hamlet, and The Lion King, yet the reactions to the call for revenge varied drastically. From impulse morals of the medieval time, to mental morality and reasoning of the renaissance age, to modern morals based on responsibility and mercy, the moral dilemma of the protagonists have shifted and developed to fit the needs of their audiences. The ability to adapt to the changing times makes the story of Hamlet universal and beloved throughout the ages. Perhaps it will continue this trend for future generations and grace the coming world with updated versions that will continue to connect audiences with Shakespeare’s great work, Hamlet.




Works Cited

Bate, Jonathan, and Eric Rasmussen, eds. "Introduction (Revenge)." Hamlet. By William
Shakespeare. Random House, inc, 2008. Xii.

Grammaticus, Saxo. “Amleth.” Gesta Danorum. Trans. Oliver Elton as The Nine Books of the
Danish History of Saxo Grammaticus. New York: Norroena, 1905. Prt. As The Danish
History, ed. Douglas B. Killings. 31 March 2009. http://omacl.org/DanishHistory/.

Greenblatt, Stephen. "Speaking With The Dead." Will in the world how Shakespeare became
Shakespeare. New York: W.W. Norton, 2004. 303.

Griswold, Wendy. "Characteristics of Revenge Tragedy." Renaissance revivals city comedy and
revenge tragedy in the London theatre, 1576-1980. Chicago: University of Chicago P,
1986. 58.

Hahn, Don, prod. “The Story Journey.” Walt Disney’s The Lion King. DVD. Dir. Roger Allers
and Rob Minkoff. Perf. James Earl Jones, Jonathan Taylor Thomas, Jeremy Irons, Matthew Broderick, Nathan Lane, and Rowan Atkinson. Buena Vista Pictures. 1994.

Neuwirth, Allan. "But What I Really Wanna Do Is..." Makin' toons inside the most popular
animated TV shows and movies. New York: Allworth P, 2003. 149.

Shakespeare, William. Hamlet (Case Studies in Contemporary Criticism). Boston: Bedford/St.
Martin's, 1993.

Shapiro, James S. "Essays and Soliloquies." Year in the life of William Shakespeare. New York:
HarperCollins, 2005. 285-86.

Smeaton, William Henry Oliphant. "Introduction." Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. By William
Shakespeare. Holt, 1904. Xxv.

The Lion King. DVD. Dir. Roger Allers and Rob Minkoff. Perf. James Earl Jones, Jonathan
Taylor Thomas, Jeremy Irons, Matthew Broderick, Nathan Lane, and Rowan Atkinson.
Buena Vista Pictures. 1994.