When Henry VII seized the English crown after defeating Richard III, he faced a massive problem: how to win over a country divided by war. His solution? Art, symbolism, and story. From staging Arthurian pageants to linking his dynasty with divine favor, Henry crafted a narrative of legitimacy and hope. In this article, we explore how medieval rulers (and storytellers like Shakespeare) used rich imagery, abstract themes, and symbolic storytelling to shape public opinion. We’ll also look at how modern films like Anonymous and The Hunchback of Notre Dame still echo these medieval methods today.

Henry VII had a problem. He had just taken the throne from Richard III, one of the “sons of York,” and now faced uprisings by the York factions in England. What could he do to change the narrative? Employ art, of course!

The Power of Medieval Imagery

Medieval imagery mixed history, religion, philosophy, and astrology to cement the patron’s agenda. The patron who paid the artist or writer got the narrative he wanted. It was common for playwrights of the period to employ abstract concepts and ideas mixed with “low humor” (crude, slapstick, or sexual imagery) to appeal to the masses while educating them in the themes the patron wanted.

William Shakespeare is an excellent example. He wrote his plays on two levels: a rich, layered plot for the educated half of his audience, and a silly one full of angst, humor, and insults for the uneducated. Twelfth Night is his best example of this, in which he used abstract concepts and low humor to educate and entertain.

For the highbrow audience member, this story explores identity, longing, love, and the nature of desire, all elevated, philosophical ideas for the period. It involves…

• Mistaken identity and gender fluidity: Viola disguises herself as a man (Cesario), raising questions about identity, gender roles, and attraction.
• Unrequited love: Nearly every character experiences love that is not returned, highlighting the pain, foolishness, and transformative power of longing.
• Desire vs. reality: The characters pursue love based on illusions. Olivia loves Cesario (Viola in disguise), while Orsino pines for Olivia without truly knowing her. This abstract idea ties into the Platonic concept of eros (idealized, unreachable love).

These themes are rich in meaning and appeal to the educated viewer or reader, while he included bawdy jokes, slapstick comedy, and character-driven farce for the common audience. Such as…

• Sir Toby Belch & Sir Andrew Aguecheek: These two are walking punchlines. Drunkards and fools who create chaos. Their banter includes sexual innuendo and clownish behavior (e.g., challenging Cesario to a ridiculous duel).
• Malvolio’s humiliation: A fake love letter tricks the pompous steward into believing Olivia loves him. He struts around in yellow stockings and crossed garters (visually absurd) and speaks in ridiculous poetic phrases. This subplot is both cruelly funny and a satire of self-righteousness.
• Feste the Fool: Uses wordplay, puns, and songs to mock other characters and comment on the action, bridging the abstract themes with the vulgar reality.

In Twelfth Night, Shakespeare layers allegory and abstraction over everyday comedy. The educated elite appreciated the philosophical and literary depth, while the common audience laughed at drunken sword fights and awkward love triangles.

A Provocative Effort at Symbolic Storytelling: Anonymous

In a more modern example, let’s look at the film Anonymous, which asks, “Who really wrote Shakespeare’s plays?” It presents the theory that Edward de Vere, Earl of Oxford, was the true author behind them, and he used them not just for art, but for political manipulation. He layers abstract themes over entertainment, with the explicit goal of turning public opinion against his rivals in Elizabeth I’s court.

• Characters and storylines mirror real nobles.
• Powerful figures like William Cecil and his son Robert are thinly veiled targets in the plays.
• Richard III is used to vilify a hunchbacked, manipulative figure, paralleling Robert Cecil’s real-life spinal deformity and alleged scheming.
• Julius Caesar dramatizes the fall of a ruler and the rise of ambition, tapping into fears about Elizabeth’s succession and those jockeying for power.

His audiences eat it up, not realizing they’re being conditioned to distrust these public figures. The masses come for the drama, and leave with new suspicions. The public cheers for rebellion and question the legitimacy of Elizabeth’s advisors, through the power of live theater.

King Arthur Re-Branded: A Tudor Marriage

This is exactly what Henry VII did, both when he came to power and for the rest of his life. He employed artists and writers as propaganda throughout his reign, to change public opinion, reinforce his divinity, remind people he ended the War of the Roses, and enthuse them toward the future.

A shrewd man who never acted without intent, Henry VII took the crown by force and had to defend it from many claimants of York and Plantagenet blood. He knew he had to change the tide of public opinion in his favor, and fast. First, he married Elizabeth of York to end the War of the Roses. Then they named their first son Arthur, which linked him in the minds of the public to his “ancestor,” the King of Camelot.

As a popular legend, King Arthur conjured to mind heroism and honor and reverence in the imaginations of all who heard stories about him. Henry wanted the public to see Arthur as the invocation of a new Camelot. That England would be returning to a time of heroism and chivalry. He steeped his children in this imagery, which is why his second son, Henry VIII, grew up with such a strong desire to create an idealistic dynasty.

Henry VII wanted as much support for Prince Arthur as he could find, so he carried the comparisons, parallels, and imagery over into his son’s wedding pageants.

Carefully written and staged theatrical productions linked Arthur with Camelot, and his son’s Spanish bride to Saint Catherine. To avoid negative associations with Arthurian lore (infidelity, incest), they also drew parallels between Arthur and the brightest star in the northern sky to prophesy a bright future for England.

The most elaborate production drew parallels between Henry and God by referencing the parable about a king arranging a marriage for his son. This allegory for the Kingdom of God reinforced his God-like status in the public eye. This image-driven propaganda worked!

The Reformation and Losing Sacred Symbolism

The Reformation caused art to divide from the divine, and imagery fell from use outside Catholicism. To separate themselves from Catholicism, Reformists stripped their churches of artwork. They linked symbolism and imagery to pagan idols and destroyed much of the medieval art with the dissolution of the monasteries (Henry VIII stripped them of their wealth to fill his treasury and finance his war against France) and ceased to use it to communicate.

This is one reason many Christian novels are less deep than they could be, because allegory and rich spiritual symbolism is a lost art form. You can still find divine symbolism woven into certain texts, like The Lord of the Rings and the writings of intellectuals throughout literary history (from Erasmus and Sir Thomas More to G. K. Chesterton and C. S. Lewis), but modern art is devoid of it.

Symbolism in The Hunchback of Notre Dame

One exception is Disney’s The Hunchback of Notre Dame. It is a splendid example of medieval symbolism in story form, with Notre Dame (a building) representing God’s Judgment (a concept). Frollo is the Fallen Man seeking Salvation Via Self-Righteous Piety, which draws him further from Divine Love and casts him into Hell.

Within the film, Notre Dame isn’t just a setting but a symbol. Not merely of religion, but of God Himself. The cathedral welcomes, shelters, warns, and ultimately judges Frollo for his actions. It is sanctuary to the broken (Quasimodo, Esmeralda), a source of spiritual awe to the outsider, and a terrifying presence to the self-righteous (when it comes alive at the end, and casts Frollo into hell).

Notice how the cathedral:

• Protects Quasimodo: Not just physically, but spiritually. It becomes a place of refuge and transformation.
• Moves Esmeralda: Her prayer is pure and selfless (“God help the outcasts”) in contrast to the self-serving prayers of others.
• Condemns Frollo: From the statues watching his cruelty to the gargoyle that drags him to hell, Notre Dame becomes an active participant in his downfall.

Some say Notre Dame stands in place of God. I’d argue it represents Him—holy, just, merciful to the humble, and terrifying to the proud. The animated film is moralizing pageantry, in a nod to medieval storytelling methods. Not only did the writers decide to tell a medieval story, they told it in the way medieval storytellers would tell it!

A Call to Create Meaningful Art

The division of art from symbolism and daily life strikes me as wrong. God is an artist. He is our Creator and made us in His image. We are a living piece of art and ought to reflect creativity in all aspects of our lives. That is one reason I don’t write “Christian” fiction so much as fiction written by a Christian. I don’t want to preach, but to show my beliefs through the themes of my novels.

In the Middle Ages, people understood we are spirit and flesh, divine and fallen, that our worldview should be holistic, not divided. Our worldview should bleed into our art and lives, not be compartmentalized. Symbolism and deeper meaning were a natural part of their lives, easily understood and shared. Faith, deed, and worldview were not separate.

The culture was saturated in meaningful art. The peasants might live cruel lives, but they could still enter a great cathedral and think of the majesty of God in the vaulted ceilings and stained-glass windows.

If our entertainment became art, how might our intellects and souls change for the better?