Time is such an ephemeral thing. Ten-thousand years can go by in the blink of an eye, but a second can stretch for millions of years. This holds most true if one is a being of other-worldly composition. But what is the composition of an other-worldly being? In truth, no one knows, but people believe that such creatures are the many complex ethereal angelical and demonic spheres that make up religion as most people know and accept it to be. It is because these beings have the ability to be able to transcend time – and therefore the bounds of life and death - that people have taken such an extreme interest in them. And it isn’t just in the spheres of angels and demons, either. People have devoured things like virtues and sins – rules by which to live their lives since no manual comes with birth about right and wrong, good and bad. How does one enter into Heaven? Why is once condemned to the icy fires of Hell? Why do things deemed wrong sometimes feel so good to commit – why is it so easy? Why is the path of Righteousness and Truth difficult to stay on – are there rewards that come with all the work? Variations of such questions have been asked since organized religion began – and probably even before that. It is for that reason that authors from every era have taken it upon themselves to incorporate the prospect of religion – namely what holds the most interest for people; the Seven Deadly Sins – into their literary works.
It is the fearful concept of the performance of seven basic, easy acts can put a person on the expressway to Hell that has helped to capture the attention of so many billions of people over the course of the last thousand years. And authors – being the crafty guild that they are – have picked up on that fear and fed on it, painting grisly portraits of creatures that personify those acts. These authors include, but are not limited to, Langland, Spenser, and Arakawa. Each author has his or her own unique spin on the concept of the Seven Deadly Sins, and portrays them in accordance to this concept as well as the notion of the times. With each portrayal, the Sins have caught on with fiery intensity; people have, in fact, committed one of the Sins in which they are so desperate to avoid in wanting to read about the exploits of these disturbing personifications. They’ve made fat, little gluttons of themselves.
The eldest depiction examined within these pages is an excerpt by William Langland entitled Piers the Ploughman. In this, a man, Piers, has a dream in which he witnesses many symbolic things; one of which being the confession and redemption of the Seven Deadly Sins. This story is the most hopeful of the three in that the Sins have the ability to confess their wrongdoings and beg forgiveness of God and gain entrance back into the Gates of Heaven.
These sins are the most conceptual, meaning that they are ideas or notions that have the ability to slip into human consciousness and alter the host’s actions. In some cases, the ideas themselves perform the sin after which they were named and become more human. All are described as human in appearance, but if one were to witness the confession of the Seven Deadly Sins in Langland’s version, they would seem ghostlike and transparent. Some of the Sins are forgiven because they are truly sorry, and some of them are not, thus being forced to make penance and try their plea again at a later time.
The middle work is taken from one of Edmund Spenser’s cantos from The Faerie Queene. In it, Redcrosse Knight must make a pilgrimage with Una, the One True Faith, to save her parents from an evil dragon. During this journey, he falls off the path with Una, thus losing his faith, and meets Spenser’s idea of the Seven Deadly Sins.
These Sins are humanlike but monstrous. Each Sin in his or her own right is riddled with diseases and rides beasts that are their animalistic equal. It seems that in Spenser’s world that even the animals suffer from sin and have the ability to be damned to Hell. These Sins are tangible and can be touched. Unlike in Langland’s story, these Sins are almost like unhallowed royalty in some strange, grotesque kingdom, each demonically dressed finely.
The most modern and recent portrayal is taken from the manga Hagane no Renkinjutsushi or FullMetal Alchemist by the Japanese author Hiromu Arakawa. Manga is a popular Japanese form of novel that would be kin to the graphic novel that American artists such as Frank Miller made insanely popular with his work Sin City. Like both Langland and Spenser, Arakawa has made her story an epic, the manga reaching well over twenty full-length volumes, each being a hundred pages or more. Unlike Langland and Spenser, Arakawa has had her vision adapted to screen in the popular Japanese anime of the same name.
The story follows the Elric brothers who are both alchemists – practisers of the most advance sciences of the time as well as the closest thing to religion in the fictitious world. Early in the series, the reader meets the Seven Deadly Sins in sporadic numbers, starting with just one and growing to sometimes two or three at a time; a major difference from the other two. In the other works, the Sins come in a line or procession. Here, they show at strange times and in random numbers to do battle with the main protagonists. It is a safe deduction, then, that the Sins are the main antagonists in the plot.
This representation is the most flamboyant yet, having the Sins be “bastard children” of alchemical mistakes and blasphemies, and the name given to the group is the homunculi. These sins appear to be the most humanlike. In fact, their major wish is to be human instead of just the byproduct of alchemical sins. In a crowd of people, it would be the most difficult to tell these Sins apart from the rest, for they are nothing as fantastic as Langland or Spenser. They look very humanlike with just a few strange features. It is nothing, however, that would set them apart from any other person in the world, for people are many and varied greatly.
Langland and Spenser are very similar, in fact. Both have one female Sin – Pride – and six male Sins. Arakawa has two females in her lot – Sloth and Lust. Verily, Arakawa has the most radical, fantastic view of the Sins.
According to Spenser’s version, Pride is “…a rich throne, as bright as sunny day,/ On which there sate most brave embellished/ With royall robes and gorgeous array,/ A mayden Queene, that shone as Titans ray/… Looking to heaven; for earth she did disdayne/… Lo underneath her scornfull feete, was layne/ A dreadfull Dragon with an hideous trayne (stanzas 8-10).” Not only that, Spenser goes on to say that, “Of grisly Pluto she the daughter was,/ And sad Proserpina the Queene of Hell/… And proud Lucifera men did her call,/ That made her selfe a Queene, and crowned to be,/ Yet rightful kingdome she had none at all,/ Ne heritage of native soveraintie/… Ne ruld her Realmes with laws, but pollicie,/ And storng advizmanet of six wisards old,/ That with their counsels bad her kingdome did uphold (stanzas 11-12).”
Spenser takes more time describing his only female Sin. He calls her Lucifera, and she is the only Sin that is given a name – even out of all three portrayals. She sits high upon a thrown with a dragon under her feet. Her thrown is a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, but Spenser says that she far outshines it and makes it look dull in comparison. Her eyes are lofty and are loathed to look low; Lucifera is constantly looking towards Heaven, for she hates being on earth. Is there just that hatred of being on earth in that look, or is there something more? Is she far more diabolical than the reader gives her credit for? Or is it simply just a look?
She is the daughter of Pluto and Proserpina, the Queen of Hell, and Lucifera far surpasses her parents in ways that Spenser doesn’t quite clarify, but because she surpasses them, she swells with pride and made herself a queen of a false kingdom. Her advisors are the six remaining Seven Deadly Sins, and they are described as “old wizards” and she is the only Sin to which Spenser does not give a disease to.
In all, Spenser takes nine and a half stanzas to describe this Sin. Langland uses what amounts to a paragraph, comparing his Pride to a Lady Peacock. “The Lady Peacock Proud-heart threw herself flat on the ground and lay there for a long time. Then she raised her head, crying ‘Lord, have mercy,’ and vowed to God that she would slit her smock and fasten a hair-shirt on the inside, to tame the fierce lusts of her flesh. ‘Here’s an end to all my swaggering airs,’ she said. ‘For now I intend to take a humble place and endure insults gladly – that will be something new for me! And I will be meek and beseech God for mercy, for this is the thing my heart has always loathed.’ (Langland, 101).”
In Spenser’s version, Lucifera doesn’t repent. Here, Pride laments her ways, and begs forgiveness. Langland gives his readers hope that even if one was to commit this sin that there are ways in which to regain God’s good graces. It involves real sorry and want for mercy, but it is possible.
Spenser shows the Sins for what they are; sins. There is no real sorrow there; there is no want for the Sin to be forgiven for their transgressions. They are happy with this false kingdom that they have created, and Lucifera is the proud ruler of the twisted sovereignty.
It is unknown why both Spenser and Langland chose to make Pride female. It would seem that Arakawa’s choice of Lust would make more sense. It would seem that males are more susceptible to this Sin – pride in their accomplishments, in their work, in their wealth. Women during that time didn’t have the ability to have all that men had, for they were still viewed along the lines of possessions. Perhaps a female was chosen because she would take pride in her appearance. Women had the fancy dresses and wigs as well as the accents that went along with it all. Of course they would like to look beautiful, and in that vanity is the root of Pride.
In FullMetal Alchemist, Pride appears as an adult male, about forty-or-so years in age; he’s also used as a spy and is in control of the protagonist army, thus sometimes using the military to taint the name of the good-guys (Arakawa, earthlink.com). Overall, he’s a rather friendly man, but he calls himself things like “king” and “fuehrer” and is the self-proclaimed king of the army because he is the head general (Arakawa, earthlink.com). He looks the most human, actually, and that is why his is able to go undetected for so long – it’s also why he calls himself the “Greatest Creation” (Arakawa, earthlink.com). His gift given to him is an all-seeing eye (very God-like) that he keeps hidden behind a simple patch, but the eye allows him to see everything – even the air in a room – at any time he wants (Arakawa, earthlink.com).
He suffers from the complex as much as the women of Spenser and Langdon. It is because he thinks of himself as the “Greatest Creation” that he is right up along the lines of Lucifera and Lady Peacock. Arakawa’s “gift” to him is the all-seeing eye, and because of that, he always knows what is going on. It is also that fact that makes him proud. He knows what is happening in his ranks. It is right along the lines of the fine gowns and jewels that the women of older times had that made them fall prey to this Sin. Whereas Pride are both first in the other two works, here he is the last Sin to be shown.
Spenser gives three stanzas to each of the remaining Sins, whereas Langland varies his length.
The next Sin introduced by Spenser is Sloth. “…Was sluggish Idlenesse the nourse of sin;/ Upon a slouthful Asse he chose to ryde,/ Arayd in habit blacke, and amis thin,/ Like to an holy Monck, the service to begin./…Still drownd in sleepe, and most of his days ded;/ Scarse could he once uphold his heavie hed,/ To looked, whether it were night or day,/ … A shaking fever raigned continually (stanza 18-20).”
He is dressed as a monk because it was the common Protestant view that the Catholic clergy were lazy and sat around all day in the monasteries sleeping instead of out in the world helping like they should be. Spenser makes the monk Sloth self indulgent in this regard. He rides a donkey because donkeys are well known to be stubborn and unlikely to budge when they don’t want to, staying in place for hours at a time. The shaking fever is an interesting choice of disease to give this Sin. A fever makes one sleeping and even more lethargic, thus adding more to his Sin.
Sloth is the last of Langland’s Sins to repent. “Then came Sloth, all beslobbered, with his gummy eyes. ‘I shall have to sit down,’ he said, ‘or I’ll fall asleep. I cannot stand or prop myself up all the time, and you can’t expect me to kneel without a hassock. If I had been put to bed now, you’d never get me up before dinner was ready…’ but as he stopped to stretch, he yawned, grunted, and finally started to snore. … ‘I have never…felt really sorry for my sins.’ (Langland, 111).”
It is one of the longer stories for the Sins. He goes through the different Cardinal acts which he has committed to become the whole embodiment of Sloth. And, like Spenser, Sloth here was a priest for decades (Langland 112). Undoubtfully, Langland chose this character for Sloth for many of the same reasons that Spenser did. Perhaps he also chose a priest to show that even in the church there are still sins and no one is ever pure enough not to need repentance. There are no such things as sinless humans.
Sloth is the fifth Sin to appear in the manga. She’s female, and looks to be about thirty; overall, she’s pretty, and looks like a comely mother or wife (Arakawa, earthlink.com). Obviously, she doesn’t move much and is slow it enter into fights (Arakawa, earthlink.com). Most of the time, she’s found sleeping and has slow speech patterns (Arakawa earthink.com). Her gift is the ability to turn into purple goo, and she is the next to youngest of the Sins created (Arakawa, earthlink.com).
In Arakawa’s version, Sloth becomes a mother figure to Wrath, who hasn’t been introduced in any plot yet. Her gift is probably the most interesting out of all the Sins. Her ability to turn to a purple goo is somewhat strange. Why goo? What exactly is goo? Is it because goo is a jelly-like substance that takes a while to move? Her mannerisms patterns fit her Sin nicely, for she reminds readers almost like the sloth animal. Instead, however, of taking long periods of time with her movements, she shows and takes this act more in her speech. The other Sins get frustrated with having to hear her draw out her sentences, and they often interrupt her, cutting her off at times; Wrath, her son-figure, is especially guilty of this.
Likewise, it is also an interesting idea that Sloth is a mother to Wrath. How something so violent can come from something so lazy is quite the conundrum. The two are at completely different ends to the spectrum. Wrath is something passionate, something warm, and Sloth is something lethargic, something cold. This is quite an interesting twist on the part of Arakawa and serves to make her readers even more interested in the Sin’s subplot.
Gluttony is by far the most interesting Sin for all three authors. The trio makes this Sin the dumbest as well as the funniest. In all three instances, there is some measure of comic relief with Gluttony, which – when dealing with something to dire as eternal damnation – seems a little comforting. After all, if one is going to be condemned to Hell, why not make a few people giggle in the process?
“Deformed creature, on a filthy swine/…In greene vine leaves, he was right fitle clad;/ For other clothes he could not weare for the heat/…. Sill as he rode, he somewhat still did eat/ And in his had did beare a bouzing can/…. In shape and life more like a monster, then a man/…. Full of diseases was his carcass blew/ And a dry dropsie through his flesh did flow,/ Which by misdiet daily greater grew. (stanzas 21-23).”
In Spenser’s version, the Sin seems this grotesque – though still humorous - cross between a crane and a large person. Imagine walking down the street and seeing a heavy man with a long, long neck and a plump face; so portly, in fact, that his very eyes are swollen shut. And, to make the picture even more complete, there, in his chubby fingers, is a drinking can: and just to top everything off, next to him – because things couldn’t get any better – there walks a pig.
But really, though, this Sin isn’t as funny as it would seem. It is just as fatal as any of the other six – maybe more so in fact, because so many people in the world today indulge so much in the rich foods and drinks that countries have to offer. Spenser gives readers a good description of that fact when he says that Gluttony was “In shape and life more like a monster, then a man (line 198).” What kind of a life would one have if one were to be like Gluttony? Subjected, a person would be, to all kinds of maladies, for Spenser even says that Gluttony was riddled with them. He is the only Sin to have more than just one or two, for “Full of diseases was his carcass blew (line 204).” Plus imagine being so gassy that constantly one is both farting and/or burping – not to mention the constant nausea. It is completely mind blowing that a person is able to gorge themselves on food and drink until they vomit everything back up – and then eat more after the fact!
Perhaps it is because Gluttony is so often drunk that the authors chose to make him the comic relief within his respective plot. After all, much drink is bound to kill off many brain cells, and Gluttony doesn’t know when enough is enough. It could be that, because he ballooned himself with beer and ale and perhaps some bad food, that he killed off most of the necessary brain cells that it takes for most “intelligent” people to function.
“By that time, Glutton had put down more than a gallon of ale, and his guts were beginning to rumble like a couple of greedy sows. Then, before you had time to say the Our Father, he had pissed out a couple of quarts, and blown such a blast on the round horn of his rump, that all who heard it had to hold their noses, and wished to God he would plug it with a bunch of gorse!... He could neither walk nor stand without his stick, and once he got going, he moved like a blind minstrel’s bitch…sometimes sideways, sometimes backwards (Langland 109-110).”
It is this portrayal that makes readers feel sorry for this Sin. Langland makes Gluttony seem a little pathetic; the reader wants to pity the being, but at the same time they know that Gluttony has dug his own grave and now must lay in it. Still, though, there is a small twang of actual sorrow – whether for Glutton himself or for his family: for they are the true victims – where the reader wants to fix everything.
Gluttony starts out all ready to go to confession to be redeemed, but he gets a little sidetracked and goes for a drink instead. And there, in the pub, are his enablers. It seems to Langland that it would be difficult for a person to get as big as Gluttony without someone who said it was alright; that he can have just one more; that it really isn’t that much, for you’re already big and such a small amount can’t hurt; that no one really cares; that we have it already ready for you; that it would be a shame to waste it. And in Gluttony’s mind, all that must make sense. It’s such a good argument, after all. The food was already there. He was in good company. A drink or two won’t hurt, and then he’ll be right off to confess his sins. But it is with that attitude that he sets himself up for failure. Surely if he only does what his friends in the pub tell him to then it can’t be a sin because he himself didn’t pour the drink or make the food. It’s never that easy. Gluttony is still an independent being, able to choose for himself. He could have chosen never to go to the pub in the first place, and he wouldn’t have gotten so stoned-drunk that he messed all over himself and spewed forth the contents of his ample stomach all over the place – and his friend - and then passed out, thereby missing confession.
But it is also in that act there that Langland makes Gluttony so funny. As a desensitized people today, it is often quite funny when, in bars and other forms of alcoholic providers, a person gets so drunk that they do exactly the same thing that Gluttony did. It isn’t right that people would laugh at the unfortunate drunkard, but that it exactly what happens when one indulges in excess. Perhaps Langland meant to use this as some sort of deterrent, but it isn’t really quite viewed as such anymore – unless, of course, one is a Bible-beating zealot: which most people probably were in Langland’s day.
In Arakawa’s version, Gluttony is, to paraphrase bluntly and honestly, a fat idiot (Arakawa, earthlink.com). Verily, there seems to almost be some sort of mental retardation with this Gluttony. He follows Lust around like a little lost puppy dog – a dog that eats every single thing he sees, but a puppy nevertheless. Arakawa makes her Gluttony seems almost cuddly as long as one stays away from that large mouth and acid saliva. It almost seems that, because of his gift, he wouldn’t be able to achieve any satisfaction in battle unless he is then able to thoroughly devour his opponent. Perhaps that is why he keeps following Lust around like he does: he constantly wants after things to put into his mouth. Therein, for him, lies the ultimate satisfaction. Therein lies the fulfillment of lust. But Gluttony has a one-track-mind and is soon on the hunt yet again for something to eat. Therefore, he and Lust are mostly together.
His appearance is also fitting. Everything on him is large – his eyes, nose, mouth, body, fingers, toes. The only things about him that are small are his ears and height – both of which add to his comic appearance. His jaw is almost constantly slack and there is always a bit of drool hanging from one corner of his mouth or the other (Arakawa earthink.com).
It also seems that Arakawa’s version is the beginning of what this Sin can do to a person. One begins as a slack-jawed idiot, moves to a bumbling bugger of a drunkard – as in Langland, and ends with this gruesome cross between an animal and heavy person; as so aptly seen in Spenser.
The next Sin in this impious, unhallowed, serpentine processional to make an appearance is Lust – probably one of the most well known Sins of them all. Next to Gluttony, Lust is probably one of the most practiced sins in the US and around the world. Thousands of men and women practice the acts of prostitution; thousands more buy these acts.
“Upon a brearded goat, whose rugged haire/ And whally eyes (the signe of gelosy)/ was like the person selfe, whom he did beare:/… In a greene gowne he clothed was full faire/ Which underneath did hide his filthinesse/…Which lewdness fild him with reproachful paine/ Of that fowle evill, which all men reprove,/ That rots the marrow, and consumes the braine. (stanzas 24-26).”
Why would Spenser choose to make his Lust a homely man? Usually only people who society has deemed “beautiful” are lusted after; people like movie stars and recording artists or breathtaking people they pass on the streets. Lust takes the center stage as impure thoughts in the minds of men and women. But this Lust, according to Spenser at least, doesn’t really have the looks to inspire such thoughts (Spenser 212). It’s also curious as to why Lust is dressed in green. Lust is something that is passionate and fiery. Lust, if any Sin, is the most deserving of colors such as red and orange – but green? Green in the symbol of immortality and genius. Red is the color of passion and romance and wanton relations. Unless this man’s wit and longevity have something to do with the way in which he is able to please – and ultimately gain the attentions of – all the women that he is able to, green is quite an odd color.
The heart that Lust carries in line 219 is the perfect item for him. It’s full of “vaine follies, and new fangleness (Spenser 220).” The heart is a fickle organ. In it, it holds people’s wishes and desires, hopes, aspirations and wants, dreams and fears. Those who commit the sin of Lust are guilty of having things like vain follies. Those short comings are what helps to make them human. But because it helps to make them human, it also helps to take them another step away from God. It is in that heart that lies the desires that make people turn towards this Sin. The fickle nature of Lust means that a person who suffers from it will constantly want for things that they know they cannot have. It also leaves them frustrated and infuriated. Spenser gives this Sin some sort of brain disease – probably something kin to syphilis – because of how much he sleeps around.
“Then Letcher cried ‘Alas!’ and besought Our Lady to intercede for his soul, and pray God to have mercy on his sins; and for this he made her a vow, that every Sunday for many years to come, he would drink nothing but water and be content with only one meal (Langland 101).” Langland, unfortunately, doesn’t do much with the sin of Lust, giving him only one sentence that amounts to five lines. It almost seems like he’s scared to write about something taboo. But more importantly, why the fear? Langland goes out in detail about the other Sins – some details embarrassing and shameful. Why would he shy away on Lust – maybe one of the most harmful Sins of them all?
Could it be because Lust involves carnal images of pleasures too sweet – too tempting – for his mind to handle? Because Lust involves the yearning for two bodies locked in sweaty embrace to become one fluid entity? Because the passions and the rush one feels when experiencing this carnal sin? Because perhaps he himself suffers from this Sin? It is often a fact that if a person suffers from a fault, they often tend to glace over it. Perhaps a beautiful woman dances through his dreams at night in an erotic dance? Perhaps this version of Lust is Langland’s own confession of sins; he leaves out the acts because he himself is too ashamed to mention them in writing – too scared that someone would figure out that he isn’t talking in metaphor or fiction anymore.
Langland mentions nothing about the acts of Lust like he does several other Sins, only his confession and plea for redemption as well as the promise he’ll do in return for salvation into Heaven.
Arakawa’s Lust is another female; she’s young – probably somewhere in her twenties (Arakawa earthlink.com). She’s a very carnal woman who has a strange gift – her fingernails can shoot out to unreal lengths to impale her victim (Arakawa earthlink.com).
This Lust, however, is the complete opposite of the version of Langland and Spenser. She’s beautiful and seductive – sexy. She knows how to move her body when she walks. Men want to look at her, want to touch her. Her appearance fits her name – her body, her face, the paleness of her skin, the way her hair waves down her back (Arakawa, earthlink.com) . Even the glove of a dress she wears, in which she looks as if she might split out of at any instant. Arakawa seems to model Lust after the more modern day ideas of what lust should be. She’s feminine in almost every way, including her special gift. And she’s also just as deadly; men don’t see their demise coming until right before their deaths.
The generally accepted idea of a beautiful woman is someone who is tall, long legs, long soft hair, supple curves, a pale face, and a plunging neckline. Lust fits every concept of the modern idea. Arakawa seems to make her almost like a siren. Her voice would be something low and breathy, melodious even when harsh. Arakawa knows exactly how to make her Lust excel in the game of homunculi life.
“And greedy Avarice by him did ride/ Upon a Camell loaden all with gold/…and thread-bare cote, and cobled shoes he ware/ Ne scarse good morsel all his life did tast/ Byt both from backe and belly still did spare/… Yet child ne kinsman living had he none/ To leave them to; but thorough daily care/… A vile disease, and eke in foot and hand/ A grevious gout tormented him full sore,/ That well he could not touch, nor go, nor stand (stanzas 27-29).”
What a sight this Sin must make – enough to turn anybody’s head. Verily, imagine the light glinting off all the gold and silver and gems. Thankfully, Envy isn’t a common, petty thief, else Greed would have quite a problem then, ne? But it isn’t really that curious that Spenser chose to put Greed at Death’s door because of his want for shiny things. Sustenance is hardly a shiny thing and would therefore have no want for Greed – he’s sort of like an animal or small child in that aspect of only have an attention span for shiny things. It’s also no wonder as to why he doesn’t have any family. One, why would a man who’s only interested in shiny things want a wife and children when in the act of both, he would have to spend the very thing he is so desperate to acquire? Secondly, he has no blood kin because who would want to associate themselves with a man who constantly wants after money and makes himself seem a fool to get it (Spenser 249)? Stanza 29, in fact, sums up the Sin’s plight almost perfectly. In wanting more, he had nothing (line 256). He doesn’t have the same things that make most people happy: no laughing family, no loving wife to greet him at home, no happy children. Just his money. Face it: money isn’t everything; it doesn’t always solve all the problems a person has. It doesn’t always make – or keep – them happy. Sure, having it would make life much easier, but at what expense? Sometimes it’s those hardships that make life interesting and – daresay – fun.
At least Spenser chose to give Green an interesting animal on which to ride. A camel is given to Greed. Now that is a curious choice. A camel could represent Egypt, and Egypt could represent large amounts of wealth since even then it was quite an ancient country. Greed could be like a pharaoh and have his tomb stuffed with vast amounts of wealth – nay, obscene amounts. That is what this Sin loads onto his poor camel who just sort of treads along under the grueling weight of his massive pack. What was going through the mind of the poor animal: Ugh; get this stuff off of me – it’s giving me a hump!
There is one thing that Spenser and Langland agree on with this Sin, and that’s what Greed looks like. “He looked so hungry and hollow, such a crafty old codger! He had beetling brows and thick, puffy lips, and his eyes were as blearly as a blind old hag’s. His baggy cheeks sagged down below his chin, flapping about like leather wallet, and trembling with old age. He wore a hood on his head with a lousy cap on top, and a dirty-brown smock at least a dozen years old, torn and filthy and crawling with lice (Langlad 105).” Both versions hear those black wings flutter in the shadows, waiting to take them home.
But this Greed, instead of having great amounts of wealth, finds ways in which to cheat others out of their money. Langland even says that Greed even went so far as to go to school with the best to learn to cheat (Langland 105). And he gets his wife in on the act, thus efficiently damning her as well (Langland 105). Seriously, though: how evil one must be to be able to condemn the very woman they are supposed to love and cherish in the eyes of God. He speaks of his acts in a nonchalant manner at first. The reader can almost see him approach the confessional with smooth ease, gliding along in the beginning of his story. It almost seems that he’s proud of what he’s done. But when there is no redemption and reconciliation is withheld from him because there truly is no sorrow, he grows more frantic, and the reader can nearly see the flush rise high in his cheeks, panic befall his eyes. It is then that he is given a direct penance to perform to keep him from taking his own life, thus compounding even more his already immense cornucopia of faults (Langland 108).
Now Arakawa’s Greed; there lies a Sin who is neither sorry nor desires reconciliation. He’s fully grown, about twenty or so; he claims he can do human things because he wants to be human – because of that the other Sins loath him: his gift is to be able to give himself a diamond-like armor (Arakawa, earlthink.com) He will do what it takes to get the job done – whatever Pride – the master of puppets – instructs, he will do… at least at first. Pride has been able to delude not only Greed, but also the other five as well into believing that as the Greatest Creation, he can make them all human instead of just alchemical heresies. Soon, thought, because of his namesake, the thought of just being a soldier in Pride’s war isn’t enough for him. Greed wants more. He needs more, never able to be satisfied. Yet again, here is an echo of Gluttony who tags along with Lust. One Sin leads down the road to another, compounding, forever compounding. It almost seems like Arakawa parallels Greed with Biblical versions of the archangel Lucifer who becomes Satan after his fall from Heaven. Neither is contented to be servants under any rule; they must be the ruler, for nothing else will satisfy them. But if Greed were to have gotten the chance to rule, would that have been enough for him? Would he soon grow needy of something else, something greater?
Greed – like the other homunculi – want to be human. They want nothing else but that. That is why Greed claims to be able to do human things, and for that fact, the other Sins loath him. Envy – who could perhaps suffer from a little bit of “Wrath-complex” – even locks Greed away for 130-something years because he grew so sick and spiteful of Greed’s claims. Instead of gold and jewels, like in the other versions, Greed only lusts after the ability to be human. He takes on human traits, says he can do human things, all because of his greediness with humanity. The only thing resembling the other two versions is his special gift; that is the gem-like quality that most modern people associate with the Sin.
Envy is the next Sin to make an appearance in the sixth level of Hell. “Upon a ravenous wolfe, and still did chaw/…All in a kertle of discolored say/ He clothed was, ypainted full of eyes/… He hated all good works and vertuous deeds/… He does backebite, and spightfull poisions spues/ From leprous mouth on all did sit (stanza 30-32).” This is another interesting animal that Spenser chooses to give to his Sin. The snake in his heart makes perfect sense (line 274), for in it not uncommon for a snake to represent Envy; Lucifer was jealous of God’s power in Heaven – he transmuted himself to trick Eve into taking the fruit to ruin God’s creation because he couldn’t have had it for himself. It also makes sense because a snake will wind itself around its prey until it’s unable to breathe anymore, thus effectively asphyxiating the captive creature. Envy’s heart takes the place of an animal, and the snake tightens its hold whenever an attack begins to happen, feeding the flames of hatred instead of snuffing them out. That constricting feeling that a person feels when coveting something another has is that snake wrapping tighter and tighter around their heart, choking not the hatred but the goodness that lies there.
The animal given to Envy to ride is odd. Why a wolf? Somehow, that makes more sense going to Wrath. A wolf snarls. A wolf howls. A wolf has eyes that reflect the moonlight like two amber jewels. But a wolf does not covet. Spenser can’t even say he chose the wolf because it is a solitary animal, for wolves run in packs. The only plausible explanation for a wolf is because of its scavenger-like tendencies – the act of coming along after another animal has finished a meal to finish off the rest of it.
Spenser seems to be able to pair the Sins together in ways that are good and make sense. Envy rides next to Greed because Greed has so many possessions. Constantly that snake constricts around Envy’s heart, making pain shoot through his chest, aching. Of course that throbbing misery would be enough to make him hate anything that would be good and kind, like Spenser says in line 280. It is because of his loathing of people who has what he doesn’t that he attributes their success as making up for other things that they’re lacking (line 283).
It also isn’t any wonder as to why Envy wears a coat of many colors because one color just wouldn’t be enough. He would see another person wearing a color that he didn’t have, and immediately his eyes would turn green with his namesake. In fact, Envy should be the one in the green gown instead of Lust. Green should at least be the most prominent color in his gowns. Surely, it’s there somewhere, but it should be the front color.
{Langland’s Envy} This Envy looks even more like a skeleton than any of the other Sins. The man looks like the walking dead – zombies. It is this Sin that seems the most sorry for his transgressions. Langland says that is was “with a heavy heart Envy asked for penance, and sorrowfully began to say the Confiteor (Langland 101).”
This Envy, like one of his counterparts, also delights in seeing people get into trouble instead of coming into good things himself (Langland 102). It is because his neighbors already have more than what he did to begin with, and rather instead of just coming into good fortune, he would much rather see those people suffer. Sometimes that suffering is so intense that people around him – those infected by his vile tongue – sometimes lose an extremity… or worse: their lives (Langland 102). Even in church, his mind never stops thinking its deliciously malignant thoughts; instead of praying as he should – as if a Sin could pray: an interesting concept in and of itself – he would rather mentally spit at those who have what he wants (Langland 102).
Langland makes this Sin truly sorry, and, for the reader, this is a little disappointing. It’s a common concept that sins in general are demonic things that take impish delight in their wrongdoing. Where would the twisted enjoyment be if the serpentine succubus fell to his knees in prostration and exaltation towards God instead of the infamous “Dark Prince”? Modern thought is that only seraphim and cherubim and the other spheres of angels and saints worship in that way. Everything else – everything that is deemed as darker, at least – dance in their heathenistic ways around their chosen “false deity”. Langland, in this regard – as well as overall – is a letdown in this aspect. These Sins are meant to be a deterrent for people to walk on the “paths of Truth and Holy Righteousness”. Langland gives people an excuse to be able to do these things – carry out these sinful atrocities – with the perhaps false hope of redemption for their sins. They are, after all, called the Seven Deadly Sins for a reason. He would do well to keep that in mind. If Langland is only trying to help, he has done a poor job of it, taking away one of the major deterrents for people.
The Envy of Arakawa isn’t a walking stick-figure. He has the ability to turn himself to real human beings that actually exist; he’s probably only the age of a teenager, probably somewhere in the middle of those years – not to mention it is because of his gift that he’s actually the most human of all the Sins (Arakawa, earthlink.com) He’s actually older than Lust, Sloth and Wrath despite his young appearance, and hates all things good (Arakawa, earthlink.com) As the reader can see, he’s quite physically healthy (mentally, like all the other Sins, is a completely different story), nor does he have vast, mastodonic amounts of wealth. Like his quasi-ancient incarnations, Envy is thrilled when something bad happens to a good person. More like his Spernserian counterpart, he isn’t sorry for his actions, and he has no desire to repent.
He, like the others, has a bit of a problem controlling his emotions, for he locks Greed away for over a century because he was so snide and hostile towards the other man all because Greed said that he was the most human-like, bragging about claims he knows isn’t true. And Envy, just to take delight with himself, locks Greed away so he no longer has to listen to the other man’s falsifications. But it is Envy, not Greed, who is the most human-like thanks to his gift. His ability to transmute to other forms – other actual human forms – makes him almost human. He can be real people. He can walk around in the human world as an actual human, and have his peers – non-human and human alike – think that he is whatever form he has taken. Once or twice, he was seen as a giant serpent or a priest. Both times, no one suspected that it was Envy. His gift is sort of contradictory: it makes him the most human. He can feel what humans feel. Perhaps Arakawa felt a little sorry for this Sin, and decided to bestow upon him a present to make his existence a little easier.
The final player in this game is Wrath. “And him beside rides fierce revenging Wrath/ Upon a lion loth for to be led;/ And in his hand a burning brond he hath,/ … His ruffin raiment all was staind with blood/ Which he has spilt, and all to rags yreant/… The swelling Splene, and Frenzy raging rife/ The shaking Palsey and Saint Fraunces fire (stanzas 33-35).” He almost seems to echo Aries-Mars, the Greco-Roman god of war. That is no surprise. What, in the world, take more wrath than war? Therein the act lies such hatred and burning anger that Wrath has the ability to fester and grow, consuming all if his surroundings, eating the very souls of man. Wrath requires some form of bloodlust, which is the sadomasochistic form of Lust. Perhaps that affliction is the reason why Wrath is decked out in red; not only to represent his anger but also his want to draw – to see and smell and taste – blood, because without the metallic tang in the open, there is no satisfaction for his rage, and he can never be sated.
But the lion is another odd choice for Spenser to give to his creation. Why a lion? Lions are thought generally to be beasts of integrity and honor. Why should this lion be any different? Is it perhaps because a lion is such a lofty animal that it simply cannot stand in having to play servant to Wrath, thereby indulging in the Sin himself?
Langland’s Wrath spread himself around quite a bit in the clergy. Langland doesn’t really give too much of a physical description of Wrath; just a list of what he’s done so far to carry out his Sin (Langland 103-105).” Langland again echoes the idea that no mortal man or woman is able to lead a sinless life, no matter how close they seem to be to God. Wrath spread himself all throughout the nunneries and monasteries. It would be an idea that would make Spenser nod his approval – all non-Protestants, after all in his view, are lazy buggers who sit behind cloistered walls doing nothing. In that idea, the two authors echo each other in some form of poetic agreement.
Langland cools Wrath off quite a bit from Spenser’s idea of him. This Wrath seems more like one of those little old people who like to sit around talking about everybody, or a high school student who certainly can’t keep from repeating a single thing they hear no matter how absurd it might seem. Langland just doesn’t seem to make Wrath very… “wrathful”. In this he has again let his readers down. Wrath is something that should invoke fear into the hearts of mortals, for those mortals who practice this Sin seems to be able to invoke the feeling in their brethren quite well. Wrath should be powerful, not some silly, big-mouthed bantling. Oh, Master Langland; whatever shall be done with you?
Now Arakawa’s Wrath returns with the fiery intensity that his name implies. Wrath here is the youngest, and, because of Envy, he has a strong hatred of everything human; he’s able to use alchemy, and that’s where Greed actually gets his ideas for his lies saying that he can do human things as well (Arakawa, earlthink.com). He’s able to transmute his body into objects (Arakawa, earthlink.com) He looks to be in his early teens and fairly normal – save for his wide eyes and manic expression on his face (Arakawa earthlink.com). His gift makes no sense, however. Why would it matter if he can transmute into other objects? What purpose would that serve? He would have quite a difficult time wielding himself in battle, unless his transmutations are just for defense. It make himself a pile of boxes in the correct situation would give him the hand-up and element of surprise on his foe. His ability not to be weakened by parts what would have been his human body makes more sense. It makes him a more difficult opponent to fight and a more powerful Sin in general. Imagine: having such turbulent emotions inside that there is no way to safely control them, and out they all spew like some torrent river. There has to be some internal conflict with Wrath.
It’s also interesting how Arakawa has Wrath kill Lust. Could having such great hatred kill all forms of desire? Could it replace the sweat of love with the sweat of battle? Why can’t he find passion within his anger? Is it not possible for him to – to be able to be “programmed” to take full enjoyment form inflicting pain on others? Every being should be entitled to feel love – even if it’s false love like the concept of Lust is.
In all, Langland gives his readers a poor excuse for an out in his story, as aforementioned. It’s almost like if the government were to only say that there was such a thing as the death penalty, lording it over the heads of citizens and criminals alike, and at the trial acquit the accused because they say that they’re really, truly, honestly sorry – even if they aren’t. And if they aren’t, instead of a just punishment, they are sent to do community service and brought back after their time is through to be excoriated. Langland gives his readers a false hope of unconditional redemption. Yes, God is said to be all-forgiving, but there is no way for sure to know what exactly God is like. He could be very easy and “slack”, or He could be the fire and brimstone that cult preachers says He is. People are physical; God is omni-present. Big difference. Granted, his version is the most hopeful, but it is also the most unrealistic.
Spenser paints a much more real portrait of ugly creatures in a procession. He doesn’t put any false lights on the idea to try to pretty it up or anything. He makes such a beautiful portrait out of the Sins, though, taking them up an entire level. It almost seems that each Sin compounds off of the last, growing in intensity and severity. Pride is the start of everything, and things build and grow and fester until they reach Wrath – probably the most intense Sin of them all. There is no true order to how the Sins should be structured, but Spenser’s makes the most sense. The reader can’t help but to smile and be in awe when reading his rich, colorful descriptions of the Seven Deadly Sins. They truly delight in their job, in Spenser’s mind, and because he paints them so happy with their plights, it is a delight for the reader as well. There is no dull doom and gloom like there is in Langland’s story.
In Arakawa’s version, the Sins seem to feed off of each other, growing and pulsing in one large entity. This makes them interesting and beautiful and disturbing all at the same time. They also elicit the most sympathy. Readers can understand the longing and frustrations that they feel in wanting to be human. The readers can almost have a superiority complex, high on the fact that creatures strive to be like them. Perhaps they can’t fully grasp that wanton need to be human since they are human, but it makes them feel sorry for the Sins, and they become almost like a tragic hero. For a while, readers want these Sins to succeed in their quest for humanity.
The main reasons that these Sins are so fascinating to people across the spectrum of time is because of the way the authors portray them. Langland gives people hope that if they commit the Sin, and they are sorry, then there is a chance that this Sin isn’t as deadly as the name implies. Spenser gives readers characters that are rich in personality and beauty. His descriptions fascinate the reader and gives them beautiful pictures in their heads. Arakawa gives readers Sins that they are able to identify with. That they are able to feel sorry for. All they want is to be human, and readers are all human. The author helps make the Sins popular; because the Sins are popular, the author is well renowned; it is quite the circle, and it is for that reason that authors from every era have taken it upon themselves to incorporate the prospect of religion – namely what holds the most interest for people; the Seven Deadly Sins – into their literary works.
Bibliography
Arakawa, Hiromu. FullMetal Alchemist - "Hagane no Renkinjustsushi". taken from http://hom.earthlink.net/~edge7z/idz.html, n.d.
Langland, William. Piers the Ploughman. Baltimore, Maryland: Penguin Books, 2006.
Spenser, Edmond. The Faerie Queene. W.W Norton & Co, 2006.
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