The Cave of Despair
Whoops. That was a mistake.
I’ve heard of judging a book by its cover, but I managed to judge a painting mistakenly. Granted, it was a much-reduced illustration in a book, but despite the lack of clarity or detail, I was willing to pronounce the idea of it awesome.
The work in question is 1772’s ‘The Cave of Despair,’ by Benjamin West. My first impression was that it depicts the dramatic moment in which a forlorn, long suffering figure, slumped on the floor in what had been the darkness of a cave, is liberated by a lady knight who had somehow smashed open the cave wall. Behind her is open air and blue sky. Sunlight fills the space that had once been nothing but crushing darkness.
That’s outstanding, I thought, particularly the juxtaposition of the poor victim and whatever gloriously explosive, powerful entry brought in the outside world. In those dark nights of the soul, when you feel utterly imprisoned, it’s important to remember that the walls are only so thick.
The painting depicts a scene from the First Book of Sir Edmund Spenser’s FAERIE QUEENE, published in the late 1500’s and one of the longest poems in English Literature. A gigantic allegorical work presented as an homage to Queen Elizabeth, the six books of the poem, each following a knight who represents a certain virtue, were to ‘fashion a gentleman or noble person in virtuous and gentle discipline,’ according to Spenser.
The Cave of Despair scene takes place in Book One, in which the Redcrosse Knight, who represents Holiness, is tasked with guiding Una, a pure and chaste maiden who represents the true Church. They are separated on their journey yet must remain faithful to one another through their many ordeals. The story is familiar probably only to English majors, but Book One has one other scene possibly famous enough for the outside world to recall, the procession of the Seven Deadly Sins and Satan in the House of Pride.
In a caption for the painting, I saw that it’s Una rescuing the Redcrosse Knight. Got it: she’s burst in; he’s in rough shape, but all will be well.
I was way off.
In a better reproduction of the painting, more people turn out to be in the picture than I realized. That’s not Una in the armor; it’s the Redcrosse Knight, a young man handsome to the point of being pretty. The worse for wear character on the floor is Despair himself, who not long before convinced a knight to slay himself. That body is partially visible in the bottom right hand corner.
The Redcrosse Knight has a dagger raised and turned toward his own neck. He’s about to do the same, but to the far left is Una - who didn’t even register as anything beyond background the first time I looked, since her purity, loveliness, and any other features that might draw focus are masked in a great cloak. She’s rushed in and placed her hand on his arm at the very last instant, crying, ‘For shame, faint hearted knight! Where is the courage and honor now that was yours when you rode out to seek the dragon? Why should you let Despair bewitch you, when you well know of Heaven’s mercy? Come away from this cursed place.’
Whatever might be under that cloak is clearly not intended to provide any measure of inspiration or devotion, and this was hardly a SEAL Team Six dynamic entry, as it turns out. The sunshine filling the room is simply from the cave’s entrance as the artist economizes space.
Now, I don’t want to make another shortsighted and ill-informed assessment, so I’ll be careful to qualify this, but THE FAERIE QUEENE might be a crushing bore.
Even 400 years ago, its style of writing was ‘deliberately archaic,’ and while seemingly based on Arthurian legend, it’s more evocative of epic Italian poetry. It appeared in the time of the Reformation, a period of religious and political upheaval, and clearly pushes a political agenda. In Book One, Una is ‘the personification of the "True (Protestant) Church". The Redcrosse Knight represents England. Una defeats Duessa, who represents the "false" (Catholic) church and the person of Mary, Queen of Scots, in a trial reminiscent of that which ended in Mary's beheading. Una is also representative of Truth.’
Una’s scolding Redcrosse in his moment of crisis is typical of Spenser’s overly heavy hand. The long winded harangues on virtue would drive centuries of readers into their own Caves of Despair.
In recognition, Queen Elizabeth presented Spenser with a modest and disappointing pension of 50 pounds per year. Scholars point out, ‘there is no further evidence that Elizabeth ever read any of the poem.’
My first reaction at getting the painting so wrong was that my story must pale in comparison to Spenser’s. On second thought, in light of all of Spenser’s complexities, I think my tiny little scene is more dramatically compelling. I’m not trying to fit the action to convey some set of pre-selected messages.
I’m just picking up where some fantastic deed has taken place: a lady knight has just breached a thick and heavy cave wall to rescue her friend or lover. To her, this represents some kind of massive achievement, a great display of strength or ingenuity, whatever way she busted that thing open. For the poor knight inside, the sudden freedom from darkness and oppression is exhilarating.
Then - AFTER - the deed is done, readers and scholars can ponder what it all means: ‘I would do anything - even move a mountain - to find you,’ or in the darkness, the trapped knight must fight his own battles against demons real and imagined.
My instincts were correct. Score one for the simple yet rippin’ yarns.
