MYRON TURNER

The Disjgured Face af3Qtw-e:

h72ag-e and Xetaphor in the %vised Arcadia

WENTIETH-CENTURY criticism is heavily weighted to- wards didactic approadies to the Arcudiu, ceaainly an understand- able bias, given its frequent sententiousness of style and Sidney’s

own, perhaps too well known, didactic theory of p0etry.l For Sidney also Iiolds, in his Apologie, that poetry is “a speaking picture.”2 Tillyard is al- most alone in emphasizing the “plastic or pictorial’’ manner of Sidney’s iiiost intense writing.3 The Arcadiu is not concerned only with ethical problems, but with nietaphysid and ontological ones as well, with what Miss Tuve has called ‘fupersensible” meaxrings; and these, as she so tersely noted, “need metaph~r.”~ Significantly, the opening episode of the Ar- cadin can be taken as emblematic of the relationship between ethical and g‘supersensible’’ levels of meaning in the Arcadin. The episode moves &om tlie neo-Platonic vision of love which shapes Sidney’s universe, to the ethic of love-cnritns-acted out in a fallen world: &om Claius and Strephon’s conteniplation of Urania, the Heavenly Venus of Renaissance Platonism, to their efforts at restoring Musidorus to life and aiding him in his quest for Pyrocles.

I . See particularly Edwin Greenlaw, “Sidney’s Arcadia as an Example of Elizabethan Al- legory.” Kitfredge Annivnsury Pupm (Boston, 1913); the relevant chapters in K. 0. Myrick, Sir Philip Sidney as a Lifcrary Cr&man (Cambridge, 1935); aud M. S. Goldman, Sir Philip Sidney atidthe Arcadia, Univ. ofIllinois Stud. in Lang. and Lit., XVII, nos. 1-2 (Urbana. 1934). The most recent study in this tradition is that of Wdtex R Davis, A Map of hcadia, in Sid- m y ’ s Arcadia, Yale Stud. in English. uvm. in which the Arcadia is represented as a “moral- ized“ version of pastoral.

2. In A. H. Gilbert, Literury Criticirm: Pluto to Dryden (Detroit, 1962), p. 414. 3. E. M. W. Tillyard, The Enzlish Epic and its Buckgroirtid (London, 1954), p. 316. 4. EIizobctlrur~ ard Metuphysicul Imagery (Chicago, 1947), pp. I S S - S ~ .

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The present study attempts to explore some aspects of Sidnq’s imagery. It emphasizes his treatment of nature and, in particular, one of his c e n d metaphors, the disfiguredface of nature.

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A great deal of what happens in the Arcadia can be understood in terms of the Petrarchan-Platonic sonnet. From the beginning, Sidney begins to de- velop its central motif, that beauty is a reflection of virtue and the “divine sparke” descended &om heaven5 For, as Bembo says in The Courtier, “beautie commeth of God, and is like a circle, the goodnesse whaeof is the Centre”; it “moveth this fervent coveting we call Love”; and “is onely it, that appeareth in bodies, and especially in the face of man.”6 EspeciaZZy in thefae ofman; the emphasis is the same in the Arcdiu. As the work opens, we find Claim blazoning the face of his beloved shepherdess Urania-his images different but his convention the same as the Astrophd of “Queen Virtue’s Court.” ceaainely as h a ey& are more pleasant to behold, then two white kidda climing up a f&e tree, and browsing on his tendrest brauncha, and yet are nothing, compared to the day-shining starres mntayned in them; and as her brmth is more sweetc then a gade Sodwest wind, which comes aecpiug ova flowsie ficldes and shaddowed waters in t6e umeeme heate of summa. and yet is nothing, compared to the hony flowing speach d m breath doth can-ie: no more all that our eyes cau see of her (though when they have ~ c n e

her, what else they shall ever set is but drie stuble after clovers grasse) is to bae mawhcd with the f l d e of unspeakable vcrtues laid up delightfdly in that best builded f o l k

The imagery is reminiscent not only of Petrarchanism but also of the Song ofSolomon, the song of the soul’s love. For Urania is both human and more than human, Urania the shepherdess and Urania the Heavenly Venus of neo-Platonism, who has raised “up our thoughts above the ordinary levell of the worlde”:

Hth not the desire to seeme worthie in her eyes made us when others were siecping, to s i t vewing the course of heavens? when others were running at base, to nmuc over learned writings? when other marke their sheepe, we to marke our selves? ha& not shee throwne reason upon our desires, and, as it were given eyes unto Cupid? hath in any, but in her, love-fdowship maintaiued fiieudship betweene rivals, and beautie taught the beholders chastitie? (pp. 7-8)

5 . Further references, induded in the text, are to the reissued edition of A Feuillmat, Thc Prose Works of Sir Philip Sidney (Cambridge, Eng., 1962). Vol. I. My concern in this essay is with the xsgo edition only. 6. B. Caztiglione, The Courtier, trans. T. Hoby. in Three Rettnissctrre C!z-:+c:, ed. B. A.

Milligan (New York, 1953). p. jw.

I I H iiiylislr Litcwry Hirrnissnrtcc

c h i w L I I I ~ I Strcplioii nrc fisliioiicd within thc tradition of neo-Platonic Ircrtnits, siicli ns tlic Ilcriiiit who iiistructs Lnviricllo in Bcmbo’s GIi Am- hi, o r (;iord;iiio 1)rtiiio’s hcroic lover: From bciiig . . . a common ordi- i iwy iit;iii, Iic bccoiiics rarc aiid hcroic, his 1iaLits niid ideas are strange, and

II is witl i i i i this coiitcst dint tlic rcndcr must scc Claius’ comparison of Uraiii;i’s t:icc to tlic siiii:

J h t iii tlmlc ns wcc can kttcr considcr tlic sunncs kutic, by marking how he @des tlww ivatcm, aid eioiuitokico tlic[n] by looking upon his owne face, too glorious for our wcukc eye: so it niay bc our concdts (not ablc to bcyc h a sun-stayning cxccllcncic) will Iwttcr way it by licr workcs upon sonic meaner subject employed. And alas, who can Iwttcr wiuicssc that thcn wc, wliosc cxpcricncc is grounded upon feeling? (p. 7)

111 iiwviiig from Claius’ blazon of Urania’s face directly into the metaphor of tlic siiii’s face, Sidiicy intciisifies our awareness of the metaphorical na- turc of Uraiiia’s bauty, sincc it is surely a neo-Platonic symbol. But he docs soiiictliiug elsc as well. Hc creates an underground awareness of the coniiiioiiplncc mctaplior, tliefnce ofnature. For we have these metaphorical rclntioiis: dic an~’sfnce: Urutria’sfnce :: the sutt rejlected in nature: Uruniu’s 6tw11ry rtj?ccrcd it1 (htwutt) nature. The metaphor is indirect, but the half- co~iscious iiifcraicc is almost automatic, and it completes the metaphorical iiitciition of tlic Catiticlcs imagery which describes Urania’s face. For that iiiingcry niakcs her face the face of nature. Such imagery is as appropriate to tlic blazoninS of a shepherdess as it is for the figuring forth of that Hcavciily Vciius which receives from God the Platonic forms of the crcatcd universe.s

Claius and Streplion’s contemplation of Urania’s significance is suddenly interrupted by the appearance ofa body washed ashore: “SO drew they up a youiis niaii of so goodly shape, and well pleasing favour, that one would tliink dcath had in him a lovely countenance; and, that though he were naked, nakednes was to him an apparrell” @. 8). Here death’s countenance is ironically superimposed upon bodily perfection and, metaphorically, on die perfect face of nature figured in the blazon of Urania’s countenance. But the irony works the other way as well: beauty transfigures the horror of death. Man lives between death and transcendent beauty; the “appar- rell” of his “nakednes” becomes a metaphor for the vulnerable perf&-

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lit- iri1,is ullllsllni 1 i f ~ . ~ * 7

7. T/ie Hcroic Etifliiisiusfs, trans. L. Williams (London. 1887), pp. 93-94. S . See hfursilio Ficino’s Corrimrnfury on Pluto’s Symposium, trans. Sears J a p e , in University

of Missouri Studies, XM, no. I (1944). p. 142. For a more detailed discussion of Urania as a neo-Platonic symbol see Davis, pp. 84-89.

119 Myron Turner bility of fden humanity. The passage which follows the discovery of Musidorus’ seemingly dead body is highly moralized; and it will serve om purpose at this point to look at the definition of “humanity” which Hyot gives in The Gouernour:g

The M N ~ C and condition ofman, wherein he is Iwc than god alxnightic, and ur-c nat withstanding all other crcarurcs in errhe. is callad humanitic; which is a g a d to those veftllc~ in whom semeth to be a m d concord and low in the nature of ~ntn

And all thoughe there be of the said veftllc~. yct be thcrt thrc prindpall by whome humanitic is ChLay compact; bcneuolarct, badiancc, and libaalitie,. . .

Bcneuolene, ifit do cxtendc to a hole contray or cicic, it is properly & c h i c k , and some tyme ZCL; and ifit concane one pasone, than it is callad bam~ohcc. And ifit bc vay fcrucnt and to one SingULrpersonc, thanmay it b e d l o u c or amidt. And that vcrtue, ifit bem opaaion -. . it is called than bcn- and the dede . . . may bc calledabmditc

To begin with, the “amitie” between Claim and Strephon initiates the theme of humanity as a “general name to those vertues in whom semeth to be a mu@ concord and loue in the nature of man.” Wha they sx Musidorus float onto the shore, they run “for pitie sake unto him“; seeing his seemingly dead body “increased their compassion, and their compas- sion called up their car&” When they see him begin to revive, they con- tinue “their charitable ofice” (p. 8). When Musidorus questions their right to prevent him &om throwing himself back into the sea, ‘‘to bestow a benefite where it is counted an injury,” They hearing himspeakein Greek (which was thcirn?tunlllangua%e) became the more tenda hearted towards him; and considering by his alliug and looking, that the losse of some durc fricnd was great cause of his sorow; told him they were poorc men that WQC

bound by mune of humanitic to prevent so great mirchiefe. (p. 9)

Here is the result of benevolence in operation (“beneficence”) and “the dede” which follows &om it, which “may be called a benefite.” Sidney seems so completely to fulfill Elyot’s definition that even the “tender- heartedness” of the shepherds takes the form ofwhat Elyot ca l ls “charitie, and some tyme zele,” i.e., the benevolence which extends to one’s country or city. Finally, their inference “that the losse of some deare friend was great cause of his sorrow” brings the theme back again to “amitie” and love.

Claius goes to a fisherman who provides “some apparrell for the naked stranger” and then takes them out to the shipwreck, in search of Pyrocles.

9. The Gouemour, Everyman Edition (London, 1907). pp. 147-48.

120 Eqlish Litcmry 12crrnissnrrcc As tlicir boat approaclics thc burning wrcck, Sidiicy dis-nppnrels the “goodly sliapc” of mail down to thc bone: they- saw a sight full of piteous mtcangcna: il ship, or rathcr tlic arkas of the shippe, or ntlicr somc fcw bones of thc u r h , hiilliig tlicrc, part brokai, part burned, part drown& death having used morc dim oiic dart to tliat datriiaion. About it floted great store of vcry rich thinga, and n m y dicsta which iiiiglit promisc no lase. And amidst thc precious things wcre a nutnbcr of dud bodics, wliidi licwisc did not ondy tcstific both dments violence, but h t the dicfc vioiaicc was growcn of humane inhurmnitie: for th& bodies Wac fd of grisly wounds, h their bloud had (as it wcre) filled the wrinck- les of the seas visage: which it seemed thc sea wouldc not wash away, that it might wimes it is not alwaies his fault, when we condemnc his aucltic: in summe, a deface, where the conquaed kept both fidd and spoiIc: a shipwrack without storme or ill footing: and a wast of firc in thc midst of water. @p. 9-10)

This memento mod, with its metaphor of fleshly disapparelling. sees through the lovely countenance of death. Umnia’s face, die beautiful face of nature, is replaced by the bloody visage of the sea, and tlie humanity which springs &om love, by “humane inhumanitie,” a phrase which has the force of oxymoron and points to humanity as the natural condition of man. But the passage also recognizes the potential cruelty of nature; the “seas vis- age,” it is understood, is not always bloodied by man but can itselfcontort the beautifid face of nature into the visage of a destroyer. The mystery of Sidney’s universe asks for faith in die beauty of Urania’s face, even where she has been replaced by the bloody visage of die sea. And, therefore, the concluding irony-the “wast of fire in the midst of water”--reaches out towards that mystery through its Christian overtones. The beautiful face of nature becomes a “wast,” a spiritual wilderness, in the midst of the waters of life; yet the wilderness is where the Christian soul is tested. Hence, Basilius’ “arcadian” retreat becomes a “desert” emblematic of the spiritual struggles and isolation of his characters (e.g., p. 246).

The irony of the “wast of fire” is stated with rhetorical finality and threatens at the moment of reading to be an unanswerable judgment against the senselessness of both man aiid a universe of unredeemed wilder- ness. But the answer emerges at once in an image which reverses the pre- ceding image of fleshly disapparelling and builds once again towards the vision of Urania. But a W e way off they saw the mast, whose proude height now lay along; like a widdow having lost her make of whom she held her honor: but upon the mast they saw a yong man (at least ifhe were a man) beanng shew of about 18. yeares of age, who sate (as on horsback) having nothing upon him but bis shirt, which being wrought with blew silk & gold; had a kind ofresemblance to the sea: on which the sun (then n a r c his Waterne home) did shoote some of his beames. His haire (which the young men of Greece used to

Myron Turner I21 weare very 10%) ws st i r red UP & down with the wind, which seemed to have a spm to play with it, as the sea had to kisse his feet; himsdfe full of admirable beautie, set the strangenes both of his seate & gesture: for, holdmg his had up full of unmoved m;lj& tie, he held a sworde aloft with his &e m e , which o h he waved about his U0-e though he would threaten the world in that extremitk But the fishermen, w k + came so neere him, that it was time to throwe out a rope, by which hold they might dr;lw him, their simplicity bred such amasement, & their amasemat such a suptition, (assuredly thking it was some God begotten bctweene N q “ l ~ and Venus, that had IE& all this terrible skughter) as they went under sayle by him, held np their hands, and IE& thdr prayers. @- 10)

The image builds subtly towards the vision of the “God begotten be- tweene Neptune and Vmus.” First, the proud mast, now humbled and severed from the source of its honor; then Pyrocles, so youthful as almost not to q u a q for manhood, sitting on the mast. However, the mast be- comes a horse; then, like Urania, who when she “put her foote into the boate, at that instant as it were deviding her heavenly beautie, between the Earth and the Sea” @. 6), Pyrocles is soon “pan-theid“ between sea and sun; and his shirt which at first suggests his vulnerable humanity (“Having nothing upon him but”), quickly becomes the means by which his naked- ness is t ranswed. His translation is completed in the response of the fear- fLI fishermen who hold up their hands in prayer. Earlier, in the presence of Urania, Claius is divided by “reverence and desire.” Fear and reverence, the classic responses to the presence of the holy; as Bembo says in The Courtier, when the lover beholds the beauty of his lady, he “feeleth the fare and reverence that men accustomably have towarde holy matters” (p. 608).

The fisherman’s error causes Pyrocles to be lost to pirates; and it does not help that Musidorus assures“them that hee was but a man, although of most divine excellencies” @. I I). This statement defines the nature of Sid- ney’s hero: godlike but not a god, capable of perfdon, yet vulnerable. It reflects as well the Christian Humanist’s high opinion of the “nature and condition of man”: “lasse than god almightie, and excellinge nat with- standing all other creatures” (Gouernour, p. 147). The response of the fish- ermen and (on one level) the response of Claius are responses to the pres- ence of the divine in the human which only image and metaphor can evoke.

The first sentence of the Arcadia begins: “It tvus in the time that earth be- gins to put on her new aparrel against the approch of her lover” (p. 5 ) - What more appropriate opening could one ask of a work concerned, cen- trally, with love, nature, and disguise? Disguise, it is true, is sometimes seen as contrary to nature; on another level, however, apparel as such is

12424 liiig/is/i Litmry I&*iiliissnircc

tlisgiiisc, ;I coiicc;iItiiciit, bci~cntli wliicli riiny Ic Iiiddcn tlic iiicomparable nplxiwl of iinturc. Close bcsidc l’liiloclca iii the royal coach, Zelmane is coiisciotis of I’liiloclcii’s body “niitl thc npparcll which did over-clowd it” (1). 167) wclmciiig to bntlic in Ladoii stremi, as Zclniane looks on, the l>riiiccsscs bcpii by pcc~c~mcal~ to take away thc eclipsing of their a p l~nrcll” (1). 217); uiidrcssiiig at night, tlicy inipovcrislicd their cloathes to iiirichc tlicir bed“ (13. 176). Always in the background is the neo-Platonic fait11 that “n l l tliis is but n h i r c Ititre / Offiircrguestcs, which dwell within” (p. 222). This notion takcs its placc within die more genera Christian Hu- manist faith, wlidi Rciiaissance Platonism shares, that the beauty, order, and fwictioiialisni of die tuiivcrse reflcct tlic divinc wisdom, goodness, and powcr: iiifhiitciics of power, & knowledge, without like measure of goodncssc, must iicccssarily bring foorth destruction and ruine, and not ornamcnt and preservation” (p. 410). Nature is ornament. And in the Ar- cndia nature and apparel, both, are supremely ornamental; in describing tlicm, Sidney’s imagination works most intensely, most sumptuously. That Musidorus’ “nakednes was to him an apparrell” (p. 8) is no s m a l l compli- muit. For Sidney even virtues may apparel the mind (p. 14).

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One will find no better known instance of Sidney’s ornamental treatment of niturc tliaii his description of the Arcadian landscape, which Musidorus and tlic two shepherds reach after three days of travel through Laconia: the 3. day after, in the time that the morning did strow roses & violets in the heavmly floort against the comming of the Sun, the nightingales (striving one with the other which codde in most dainty variety recount their wronguuscd sorow) made them put of thcir sleep. & rising from under a tree (which that night had bin their pavilion) they went on their jorney, which by & by welcomed Midorus eyes (wearied with the wasted soile of Laconia) with delightfull prospects. There were hilles which garnished their proud heights with stately trees: humble valleis, whose base estate semed comforted with refiedung of silver rivers: medows. enameld with al sorts of ey-pleasing floures: thickets, which being lined with most pleasant shade, were witnessed so to by the cherdul deposition of many wcl-tuned birds: each pasture stored with sheep f w with sober security, while the prety lambs with bleting oratory craved the dams comfort: here a shepheards boy piping, as though he should never be old: there a yong shepherdesse knitting, and withall singing, & it seemed that her voice comforted her hands to work, & her hands kept time to her voices niusidc. As for the houses of the country (for many houses came under their eye) they were all scattered, no two being one by th’other, &yet not so far off as that it barred mutual succour: a shew, as it were, of an accompanable solitarines. & of a civil wiIdna. @p. 13-14]

Myron Turner

Here is an image which appeals to our deepest levels of conscio-a, a h i o n of convention and archetype which makes interpretation and re- sponse seemingly bottomless. It is an image of harmony, balance, and or- der in nature, conveyed almost as much through the delicate and t a d

balance of the rhetoric, as through the images t h d v e s . However, the harmony is not only in nature, but between man and nature and within man himself-the shepherdess is an emblem of absolute accord between the internal and external natures of man, flesh and spirit, mind and activity-

Yet here, the shepherd’s boy pipes, us though “he should never be old”; and the nightingales smve “in most dainty variety” to “recount their wrong+zwsed sorow.” Love and death are the inevitable sorrows of the Arcadia convention; however, by fixing upon the s t o r y of Philomela, Sidney calls our attention to the nightingale’s usual place in the springtime of love, only in order to look through the ordinary sorrows of love into a love s t o r y involving the most homble violations of nature. The dkfigured face of nature exists potentially within its beauty. And it is at this point, in order to emphasii the potential for dkfig~~emmt, that Sidney ntrfaces the metaphor which governs so much of the opening chapters. Claim ex- plains to Musidorus that

The country. . . where you were cast a shore, &now arc past through, is Laconia, not so poorc bythebarrcnna ofthe soyle.. . as by a ad warre, WhLh being these two ycara widin the bow& ofthar atate, betwecue the gentlemen & thepas;mts (by than named IEelor~) hath in this sorte as it were ddigured the fact of nature. and made it so dospitall as now you have found it: the tomes neither of the one side nor the other, wjlljngly opening their gatcs to strangers, nor strangers willingly enuing for feare of being mis-

taken. 0. ‘4)

Man and nature-both are “dospitall,” both +d. But in Arcadia the landscape “welcomed Musidorus eyes,” while in Kalander one finds “A man who for his hospitalitie is . . . much haunted,” a man, moreover, whose position in life gives ‘‘Kim not so much power, as his nature gives him will to benefit” (p. 12). Hospitality, as seen in Kalander’s behavior to- wards Musidorus, is humanity expressed in the ritual beauty of courtly manners. His behavior, also his simple yet elegant way of life, are part of a larger social ideal of harmony and beauty in which the shepherds, as well as their aristocratic lords, participate-both through their pastoral Muse and through their contentment ofmind,which finds pointless“the wasting oftheir owne lives in ravening” either for power or for glory (p. 19). B>- contrast, the Helots are characterized by their inhumanity (p. 37) and their “beastly furie” (p. 39) and must be transformed once more into recog-

I 24 E q l i s l i Litcrcrry Hc*rmissnrzcc

iiiuablc, retioiinl ~iumaii bciiigs by l’yroclcs (pp. 37, 39). By placing the civil wnr “witliiii tlic bowcls of dint atntc,” Sidncy calls attention to the brstidity wliich lins disfigiircd both man and iiaturc in Lacedaemonia.

Tlic disfigiircd facc of iiaturc iicxt nppcars as die disfigured face of M o p , in Kalnndcr’s mock blazoii, which parodies the motif of godlike pcrfcxtioii. A “foilc” to tlic priiiccsscs, wliosc niore-than-mortal beauty iiiirrors thcir iiincr pcrfcctions (pp. 18-21), she is-as Sidney will later portray licr-a rathcr dog-likc crcaturc (pp. ISG, 164), a comic version of iiiaii’s bestiality. “Like great god Saturiifnirc. . . . As mothe us Pan, . . . she s t c d c s ~ o d Moiiius grace.” Kalander’s sonnct goes on to praise ‘‘HMfirhead jnciritlr like, her checkes qf opal1 h e , / Her trvirrklitig c i s bedeckt with pear&, Iicr lips RS Snpliir Ibv” (p. 21). The intention-if not always the object- of this parody is specific. If for the neo-Platonist beauty is the index of initid and soul, then eyes, forehead, cheeks, bearing all have significance.10 Tlic princesscs are eadi unexceptionally yet diflcrmtly beau&; and the diffcraices of beauty figure forth the differinces of mind: “Philocleus bcautie,” says blander, “onely preswaded, but so perswaded as all harts must yeelde: Pctittcl~s beautie used violence, and such violence as no hart could resist” (p. 20).

Tlic princesses replace Urania, beconing Sidney’s chief symbols for the beautiful face of nature: “indeede me thought [says Pyrocles] the Lillies grcw pale for envie, the roses me thought blushed to see sweeter roses in her clicekes, & tlie apples iiie thought, fell downe &om the trees, to do homage to tlie apples oflier breast” (p. go). And, as for Pamela, her breasts “swcetly rase up like two faire Mountainets in the pleasaunt valley of TCIII~C.” Later, tlie River Ladon becomes “an miperfect mirror of a1 per- fection’’ (p. 217) as it reflects the naked princesses in its face: “as the Ladies plaid tlieni in the water, somtimes striking it with their hands, the water (niakiiig lilies in his face) seemed to sniile at such beating, and with twen- tie bubbles, not to be content to have the picture of their face in large upon him, but he would in ech of those bubbles set forth the miniature of them” (p. 218). Here the early image of “humane inhumanitie,” the blood-filled “wriiickles of die seas visage” (p. IO), is transfigured into an image of mirth and splendor, the graces, mirrored in mock-angry water that smiles at “such beating.” In “ What toong can her perfections tell,” the blazon which follows (p. 218), Philoclea becomes the metaphorical embodiment of all

10. See Artesia’s triumph @p. 101-04). where Sidney makes a highly formal statement of the notion that feature and form are an index to character.

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that is beautiful in both nature and the arts of man, “and all. . . but afaifc Inne / Ojjairerguestes, which dwell within” (p. 222).

Kalander’s neo-Platonism, like Sidney’s, is modified by a strong a- vinistic sense of the irrationality of existence: “this poore baiting place of mans life. . . wherein there is nothing so certaine, as our continual uncm- taintie” (p. 26). When Musidorus arrives dressed in shepherd’s garb, Ralan- der remarks to Claim and Strephon that “if this young mans face be not a false witnes,” his “vertues” “doe better apparrd his minde, then you have done his body” (p. IS). He is quite ready to see Musidorus’ mind in his face; but his qualification (“if this young mans face”) points in the o p p site direction, towards the irrationality and ironies of a fallen world, where the neo-Platonic coherence is not often apparent, beauty not always the mirror of virtue. In the Argalus and Parthenia episode the disfigured face of nature finds narrative embodiment as a symbol for the loss of this m- herence.

The paradox at the center of the tale is of the kind which would have delighted Pettie: “that he by an affection sprong &om excessive beautie, should delight in horrible foulnesse; and she, of a vehement desire to have him, should kindly buyld a resolution never to have him“ (p. 3 5 ) ; it recog- nizes the irrational nature of existence. Argalus is prepared to affirm what is beyond the irrational effects of Fortune and tr ies to persuade Parthenia “that her face, when it was fayrest, had been but as a marshall, to lodge the love of her in his minde” (p. 35). For, as he later says, “it was Parthenius selfe I loved, and love” (p. 50). Moreover, in Parthenia’s disfigured face he sees “the lovelines ofher love towarde him“ (p. 36). In being faithfd, de- spite Fortune, to a beauty which emanates &om the soul, Argalus not only d e s t s his neo-Platonic maturity but, as well, acts out the Ciceronian- Stoic formula for great-mindedness, “a vertuous constancie” (p. 35) in spite of Fortune (De Oficii5, LXX). Parthenia, on her side, cannot so under- value her own disfigurement: “SO in heart she loved him, as she could not fin& in her heart he should be tied to what was ‘unworthy of his presence” (p. 35). Hence, in her resolve not to marry, she manifests her own great- ness of mind (a Stoic willingness to bear up self-sufficiently under the calamities of Fortune) and her own love (a Christian willingness to sacri- fice herself for love).

The moral complexity of t h i s episode is typical of Sidney’s world. Par- thenia’s concern for Argalus’ honor cannot be placed second to his own Platonic affirmation, particularly since her motives involve not only honor but love and self-sacrifice. From the Christian point of view, there is the

I 26 English Litcrnry Hcrtnissnrrce iroiiy that hcr love results iii sclfkxrificc for worldly honor. On the neo- Platonic side, there is tlic particular iroiiy that she must demonstrate the profwidity of her love by the valuing of tlic flcsh. Increasing the moral complcxity of the episode is her flight, “blaming her fortune,” “wishmg her owiic death,” “all companie” (cvcii Argalus’) grown “unpleasant unto hcr” (p. 36). Shame and despair. Hcr withdrawal is the point at which her virtue fails her.

What is especially significant for our argument is that Sidney chooses to mate the disfigured face of nature the chief symbol in a preliminary and suggestively prefigurative tale; it not only adumbrates the complex moral texture of his world but in fict-together with the Helot-Lacedaemonian war-offers a microcosm of that world. (And of course the Helot episode is itself about the disfigured face of nature.) Struaurally, these two tales juxtapose public and private disorders which become so interpenetrated as to be mutually d€ectcd; such is the pattern throughout the Atcadia. The matically, there is Argalus’ “doing” and Partheria’s “suffer ing” (p. 33)- the valor of arms and the valor of mind rquired in a world of public and private Fortune. Again, there is the Platonic love motif, the idea that love is for the “selfe,” throughout central, but c r u d to the Captivity Episode, where Amphialus tries futilely to win love, medieval romance fashion, by display of worldly glory; corollary with it is the understanding every- where in the Arcadia that love cannot be constrained. As for the con- strainers, Parthenia’s mother and Demagoras represent two poles of vil- lainy, the one an energetic, rational malignancy which takes virtue as its enemy, the other a brutal and brutish self-love; they are smal l studies for Cecropia and Anaxius. The latter (significantly, I believe) enters and takes control when Cecropia’s rational evil is destroyed; in the same way, Dem- agoras’ villainy takes over after the death of Parthenia’s mother. Even Argalus’ wanderings, after Parthenia’s disappearance, look forward into the narrative. The pilgrimage, the world-wide quest, for the sake of love is part of the reality of Sidney’s fiction-Musidorus (searching for Pyrocles), Helen of Corinth, Plangus.

Paahenia’s withdrawal prefgures a basic psychological pattern: the need to withdraw-if only temporarily-fiom “all companie” in order to be alone with the shame or despair (usually both) arising out of some dis- figurement of nature, some act or emotion felt to be unnatural-in viola- tion of reason, virtue, nature. Thus, a shame to womankind, Gynecia seeks out one of “the solitary places those deserts were Ml of” (p. 145). Again, Philoclea, sent to Pamela’s lodge, “did willingly accept the times

127 Myron Turner &er, to be a while alone” (p. 172) with her shame and despair. F+,+ cially pertinent is the unkind King of Paphlagonia, his shame and despair so profound that he desires either death or the desolate isolation of2 w;lq wilderness. Blinded, he is, like Parthenia, a concrete instance of the &+- ured face of nature: “deprived . . . of his sight, the riches which N a m e graunts to the poorest creatures” (p. 208) ; his disfigurement is both symbol and retribution for his own violation of nature: “his [Leonatus’] kin&= is a glasse even to my blind eyes, of my naughtines” (p. 210). Earlier, there is Queen Helen, her face disfigured by sorrow: “a Lady of great beautie, & such a beautie, as shewed forth the beames both ofwisdome& goodnature, but a1 as much darkened, as might be, with sorow” (p- 64). She has wi& drawn fiom court Me and set out on her lonely pilgrimage, “admturing what perils or dishonors might ensue, only to folow him, who proclaimeth hate against me, and to bring my neck unto him, if‘ that may redeem my trespas” @. 72).

The disfigured face of nature finds permanent nafiative embodbeat in the figure of Zelmane, the comic face of heroic nature. A f k the wedding of Argalus and Parthenia, Pyrocles withdraws, fleeing (significantly) dur- ing the hunt, emblem of the active life: “the p o r e beast” slain in the hunt “with tares shewed the unkindnesse he tooke of mans crudtie” (p. 61)- The image recalls that of the sea’s visage denying that it is “alwaies his fault, when we condemne his crueltie” (p. 10). From the active life, with its inevitable cruelty, Pyrocles withdraws into his world of love. Yet, ironically, in love he feels both shame and despair (pp. sg,76), because for both young heroes, love is felt to be in violation of former standards of reason, nature, heroic virtue. “Love,” laments Musidorus, “thou disguisest our bodies, and disfigurest OUT mindes” (p. 117). Pyrocles’ passion tram+ forms him from “a Mums heart in a Cupides bodye” (p. 48) into a travest). ofthat image, the Amazon Zelmane, fit object of Musidorus’ mockery. As Musidorus says, a bit self-righteously, “it . . . subverts the course ofnature” (p. 78). For, he will soon be found “apparelled in flanen, with a goats skin Cas t upon him, & a garland of Laurel1 mixt with Cypres leaves on his head’’ (p. 152), himself a witty “device” of nature and the natural. And Zelmane will entreat him to “bestow a Mappe of his little worlde, upon her; that she might see, whether it were troubled with such unhabitable climes of colde despaires, and hotte rages, as hers was’’ (p. 152). Urania, the beautiful face of nature, has been replaced by a new map.

128 &Tfisli Liternry Kcrmissnrrcc

111

Tlic ciisfigurcd facc of iiatiirc is a rich symbol for tlic alicriation of man from liinisclf, liis socicty , his moral and iiictapliysical universe. Shame and dcspair arc tlic ciiiotioiis of alicriation tccausc tlicy are the emotions of iii~.~.aain~lcssiicss. “But in dccd tlioou [Lovc] hasr rcason,” asserts Musidorus,

for thougli thc waycs bc foulc, tlic joimcys cnd is iiiost faire aiid hon- ourablc” @. I 17). Sidiicy’s world asks for faith in iiicaniiig even where it is not casily or at once apparent. And sometimes, as in thc Captivity Episode, wlicrc it inay not seem apparcnt at all. This is what Sidney asks of his hcrocs, his lovcrs, his heroines. By contrast, his villains live in a meaning- less wiivase widi no value beyond die self: “though many times Fortune failed 111e,” says Cecropia, “yet did I iiever f i le my self” (p. 365). Her atlieism sces only a universe of meaningless Chance in which “Yesterday was but as to day, and to morrow will tread the same footsteps as his fore- gocf~” (p. 406). She avoids the despair implicit in her philosophy through dic energy ofambition and spite, “cruel, because a~nbitiou~” and “spitefG11 bccausc she could not prevaile” (p. 470). One is reminded of Plexirtus, cqual to her in energy, equal in sp i te -cqd as well in “ougly shameles- iiesse” (p. 410). Thus, ever unregenerate, heappears before Leonatus “with a rope about his necke, barefooted” and “seeming to desire nothing but deadi, as ashamed to live, he begd life, in the refusing it” (p. 213). Even figures like Anaxius have a primitive sense of honor; only Sidney’s most despicable villains possess no sense of shame-cecropia, Antiphilus, Plexir- tus, Demagoras, “loving no bodie but him selfe” (p. 32). For shame is not possible witliout some acknowledgment of value beyond the self. So shamed by her readiness to violate the most sacred values, yet so deter- iiriiied not to be “bereaved” of her “desires,ss Gynecia concludes: “In sliaiiie there is no comfort, but to be beyond all bounds of shame” (p. 146). She is ready to destroy even the “sweete minded Philoclea” (p. 1%).

Two areas of inquiry remain: first, how Sidney applies his metaphor of disfigured nature to the characterization of villainy; secondly, his treat- iiient of faith-fiith in a meaningful universe despite the disfigured face of nature, marred sometimes beyond human understanding.

The example of Demagoras teaches that the poison of villainy disfig- ures; but the poison works in reverse: with a countenance impoisoned with malice, Cecropia flies to the whipping of Philoclea. She is like An- dromana, capable only of ‘‘a maske of vertue” (p- 244). The resistance of the princesses makes “the poison swell in her cankred brest” (p- 474); her

( 8

Myron Turner 129 moral nature is a “sickenesse” (p. 410). Earlier, the King of Phrygia, be- cause of his fearfd, suspicious nature, d e s t s a “tode-like retyrednesSe, and closenesse of minde; nature teaching the odiousnesse of poyson, and the daunger of odiousnesse” (p. 196). Wickedness poisons nature. Pl-- tus, therefore, is an unnatural brother @. 212) involved in “ u n n a d dealings” (p. 208), dangerous for his “poysonous hypocrisie, desperate fraude, smoothe malice, hidden ambition, & smiling envie” (p. 209). Poison and the mask of virtue.

In a world where people are “mind-striken by the beautie ~fvertue’’ (p- 198), Gynecia understandably feels her vice to be “the W e r ofdeformitie” (p. 145)’ her virtue eclipsed by some “hideous thing” (p. 146). Cecropia’s moral nature is not merely sick with its own poisons, but deformed as well. Her shamelessness is ccougly” (p. 410); she is one of “so many Kites’’ (p. 470); she is “like a Batte” (p. ~ I I ) , “owly eied in the night of wicked- nes” (p. 4 7 5 ) - i i e s with overtones of witch& and the unnatural. Findy, she is like a f k y (p. 471) and, when denied, “sucking up more and more spite” (p. 3 81), “still swelling” (p. 470) like a toad or the thick scums of pond life. Inhuman, she has lost the shape of her humanity.

In the political episodes of Book II, one of Sidney’s central images of the loss of human form reflects the hideousness Gynecia feels within-the image of the monstrous. After the episodes in Pontus and Phrygia, Py~o- cles and Musidorus go out in search of honor: “For in that time those regions were full both of cruell monsters, & monstrous men. . . . Among the rest, two brothers of huge both greatnesse & force, therefore com- monly called @ants” (p. 204). Sidney plays down the marvelous-a fie- quently noted fact; one effect is to emphasize that the monstrous is not outside of, but within mankind. The giant brothers possess a fierce M- ture, “scarcely in the glasse of Reason, thinking it selffaire, but when it is terrible” (p. 205). Their gigantism represents the s u m of all such distor- tions of the face of nature: the King of Phrygia who, “having quite loste the way of noblenes . . . strave to clime to the height of terriblenes” (p. 197); or Pontus exercising a “wanton crueltie” (p. 202), “forgetting, or never knowing humanitie” (p. 203). Like the latter, or like Plexirtus, who delights in others’ misery (p. 2w), they “delight in slaughter” (p. 205), a frightening inversion of the delight in virtue’s beauty.

In addition to giants, Sidney occasionally mentions monsters; yet there is in fact only one episode actually involving a monster. This is of some significance, because it is Pyrocles’ final adventure in Asia. Itself a fearsome spectacle of disfigured nature, the sole monster of the Arcudiu comes as the

1 3 0 Ib~qlislr LitcrGry Ramissnrtcc

culminatiiig syiiibol of tlic irrationality which transforms man into a has t , a bcast of tyraiitiy and iiilimiianity. “Bcasts onely cannot discerne ()catity,” says Musidorus; who will rcsist it, must . . . have no witte” (p. 113) . Thc old iioblciiiiii who lias capturcd Plexirtus sees the monster as tlic iiiirror of tyranny: “lic causcd Iiini [Plexirtus] to be kept in a miserable prison, till a day appointcd, at which timc hc would deliver him to be d e vourcd by a iiioiistrous bcast, of most ugly shape, armed l i e a Rhinoceros, as strong as an Elcphant, as ficrce as a Lion, as nimble as a Leopard, and as crucll as a Tigrc: whoiii he . . . thought no fitter match, then such a beastly nionster with a nionstrous 7’yrant” @. 3 w). The analogy between Plexir- tus and die monster is later underscored; “the olde nobleman,” says Pyro- cles, “. . . lovcd iiie; onely bewayling, my vertue had beene imployed to save a worse monster then I killed: whom yet (according to faith given) he delivered” (p. 301).

Faithgiven. This is the reason that Pyrocles delivers Plexirtus on the very day his “honour was . . . gaged” to stand with Musidorus against Otaves and his two giants: “my promise given, & given to Zelmune . . prevailed more with mc, then my f~endship to Musidow” (p. 299). In tragic con- trast, Tydeus and Telenor die “accusing their folly in having beleeved, he could faithfully love, who did not love faithfulnes” @. 294). Sidney creates a context in which faith given becomes a supreme source of value, allow- ing the deliverance of Plexirtus and taking precedence over both friend- ship and honor. One must recall Argalus’ “vertuous constancie, and even a delight to be constant, faith geven” (p. 3 5 ) . This is the Stoic formula, but with Platonic overtones in the “delight” which re-echo more strongly in the recognition of Tydeus and Telenor that Plexirtus “did not love fiith- fulnes” (p. 294). Faith given creates a meaningful human context ofpublic and private trust, its Stoic root “vertuous constancie,” its Platonic the love of virtueasbeauty .

But in Pyrocles’ slaying of the monster, faith given goes beyond the context of human trust: “so was my weakenes blessed &om above, that without dangerous wounds I slewe that monster” (p. 301). No previous episode reveals the direct assistance of divine grace in heroic exploi-a fact significantly enhancing the symbolic value of Pyrocles’ final quest in Asia, the slaying of the monster Tyranny (so Spenser might have called it). The heroic quest is, finally, a solitary one. Unyieldingly bound to any faith given, the hero must himself learn to trust in no one’s virtue but his own. For this reason, Pyrocles resolves to meet Anaxius without the pres- ence of Musidorus, from whom “(as of any worldly cause) I must grant,

4 4

Myron Turner as received.” says Pyrocles, “what ever there is, or may be good in me” (pp. 26364). Rejecting “a kindofdepending” upon Musidorus (p. 264), in his heroic solitude Pyrocles depends upon and is gratefbl for the aid granted him by the divine Cause which gives unconditioaal meaning to the C& tian universe.

Faith given-it is a phrase that applies equally to both the divine and the human. But considering the complex moral texture of Sidney’s world, a humanist &th, by itseK, might prove a grim Stoicism indeed, indeed might well veer towards the meaningless: the slaying of one monster free another, the deliverance of Plexirtus. And how does one read the new threat posed to the Kingdom of Pontus by Otaves and his two giants whom Musidorus battles in his final Asian adventure? In a fallen world in which the imperative of heroic virtue is to destroy the monstrous, the monster is already born that is replacing its dead parent: Otaves’ giants are the sons of the two giants whom l?yrocles and Musidorus had earlier slain in that same kingdom. The deaths of the fithers “pleased the eternall justice” (p. 205). The hero acts upon t h i s fiith in etemal justice.

IV In Phrygia Pyrocles disguises himselfas servant to the executioner who is to behead Musidorus, “That bad oflicer not suspecting him, being araied fit for such an estate, & having his beautie hidden by many foule spots he artificially put upon his face” (p. 199). This image, with its recognition of evil’s disfigured face, looks back to Parthenia’s disfigurement, forward to the mock-beheading of the princesses. Between these two events are re- current mutilations, torments, beheadings-most remarkable of all are the various and witty mutilations of the peasant rebels, grotesque caricatures of the disfigured face of nature (pp. 3 12-13), adumbrating the grotesque atmosphere of Cecropia’s castle.

The mock-beheadings are themselves grotesque parodies of the disfig- ured face of nature. Philoclea’s head appears in “a bason of golde, pitifidly enameled with bloud,” “having no veile, but beautie, over the face - . . so did those eyes shine, even as they were wont . . . and sometimes as they moved, it might well make the beholder think, that death therin had borowed their beutie” (pp. 482-83). Here is a parody of one of Sidney’s earliest paradoxes, death‘s lovely countenance, symbol for the vulnerable perfectibility of fallen man. Sidney’s faith in man’s potential is nowhere more evident than in his description of Pamela being wlupped: ‘.if ever the beames of perfection shined through the clowdes of affliction, if ever

132 I:ir,~lislr I,itmvy Rcrrnissorrcc Vcrtiic tookc n bodic to slicwc liis (CIS uiicoiiccavcablc) bcautie, it was in Pctrrwkt” (1). 472). Tlic toiic of iiinrvcl is Sidiicy’s tcstaiiicnt to his Platonic pi\ssioii niitl h i t h . I’liiloclcn is but scnrccly sccoiid to licr sister, as “with silciicc niid pnticiicc (like n fiirc gorgcoiis nrniour, lianuiicrcd upon by an ilfnvourcd Siiiith) slic abotlc tlicir pittiles dcaliiig” (p. 471). The image plnys ngniiist tlic iiitciisc coiiccrii of Book III with amior; but her naked- iicss is its owii nppnrcl Lcspcnkiiig thc bcautifiil face of nature. In the midst of toriiiciit niid iiiutihtioii, it bccoiiics tlic “faire gorgeous armour” of yaticiicc, tlic aniior of faith.

Tlic Captivity Episode is a Christian reassessinent of the pastoral con- vaitioii and follows as logically upon what precedes it as the final move- iiiciit of “Lycidas.” Pastoral is the gciire of withdrawal; the captivity is an aiforccd withdrawal askiirg for faith and removes Sidney’s characters from tlic pastoral scciie. Tlic “ccntnl assumption” of Sidney’s pastoral is not, as Davis argues, “that sccnc dctumiiies act, that a pure natural envi- ronment will produce 3 harmonious rclatioti of parts in the human soul” (p. SI). In Pyrocles and Musidorus one finds a pattern of loss and recovery of internal balance which exists irrespective of the Arcadian retreat. And Paiiicla’s iiiotto, “still t r y st&” (p. go), characterizes her behavior through- out, always iiiajestic, never coiiqucred by external circumstances.1’ The pastoral aivironmetit exerts no effectual influence upon Sidney’s charac- ters. Furdiemiore, the Captivity Episode is crucial here, because if any- wlicrc, it is there that Sidney depicts harniony of soul. And his concern is not with a pattern of disintegration and healing, which Davis’ view re- quires, but with the heroic triuniph over evil of human nature aided by grace. Scene does not deternine act, rather act becomes a defiance ofscene and an firnation of all that the scene seeks to subvert.

Pamela and Philoclea are betrayed, not healed, by the pastoral scene, by tliosc six NppIi(Is,” as Sidney says with no little dramatic irony, who

come garlanded with ‘*roses and gilliflowers,” “in many places garnished with leaves,” and lead them off to the sounds of “sweete tunes,” like devil- ishly disguised Pans, into “the midst of the thickest part of the wood” (pp. 360-62). Cecropia’s Castle, to which they are finally led, “stood in the midst of a great lake,” the waters of which separate the inhabitants of the castle from the pastoral Arcadia; it is “impregnable,” “uppon a high rocke” (p. 362), a rock suggestive of the great distance of the castle from the healing power of cyclical nature. One of Sidney’s most telling images

1970). 72,79-80.

‘1

11. See this writer’s “The Heroic Ideal in Sidney’s Revised Arcudin,” SEL, x (Winter

Myron Turner =33 occurs when he converts the image of Cecropia’s castle into one which figures the princesses’ spiritual power: “Pumelues determination was built upon so brave a Rock, that no shot of [Cecropia’s] could reach unto it: and PhiIocku (though humbly seated) was so invironed with sweete rivers of cleere vertue, as could neither be battred, nor undermined” (pp. 469-70). Mind and soul become an ironic mirror which transfigures the hostile en- vironment into an image which brings with it an awareness that God is my rock, and my fortress (Ps. d . 2 ) .

When Plangus (pp. 2 2 s ) and, later7 Pyrocles (pp. 483E) look out at the universe, they find it meaningless. Pamela, in the darkness ofher prison cell, finds order and wisdom. David Kalstone explores the tradition in which pastoral landscape bemmes symbolic of the lover’s state of mind, then demonstrates that this is the tradition of the poems &om the ArCadia’2 Ifnature becomes a mirror ofthe mind, then scene cannot, as Davis argues, determine act; the two conventions are mutually exclusive. Pamela’s de- fense of nature’s beauty is in defiance of“environment7’ and a reflection of the “pure minde” for which she prays (p. 383).

Speaking of Virgil’s Fourth Eclogue with its prophetic vision of a fLture Golden Age, Renato Poggioli writes that “Christianity saw the new Golden Age not only in the distant promise of Christ’s second coming but also in his everlasting presence in men’s hearts.”I3 Pamela defends God‘s creation “without any hope of fkite in so rotten a harte” as Cecropia’s (p. 407); her defense is an act of faith, an expression of the “pure minde” for which she prayed, a witness to the Golden Age which exists in the be- lieving heart. Sidney conveys the nature of this Golden Age in an image which combines the notion of the interior garden with the face of nature and the image convention of the lilies and roses of the lady’s face. Pamela

was woorkmg uppon a purse cenaine Roses and Lillie, as by the finmesse of the works one might see she had borowed her wittes of the sorow that owed them, & lent them wholy to that exercise. For the flowccs she had wrought, caried such life in them, that the cunningest paiuter might have 1 4 of her needle.. . the cloth loking with many aes upon her, & lovingly embracing the mounds she gave it: the sheares also were at hand to behead the sillce, that was growne to short. And ifat any time she put her mouth to bite it of€, it seemed, that where she had beene long in making of a Rose hth her hand, she would in an instant make Roses with her lips; as the Lacs seemed to have their white- nesse, rather of the hande that made them, then of the matter whereof they were made;

12. Sidney’s Poetry (Cambridge, Mas., 16s). chs. i and iii. r j . Renato Poggioli, “The Oaten Eutc,” Harvard Library Bdletbz, XI, z (Ssrias 19S7),

163.

I34 h L q / i s / i f,i/crtrry kwrissnrrcc*

rid dint tlicy yrcw tlicrc by tlic Siiiiiics of licr cycs, LI: wcrc rcfrcslicd by the most in dis- conrfort coiiifortnblc nyrc, wliicli nil iiiiwarcs sigh iniglit bcstow upon them. . . . it was not without iirnrvnilc to SLY, lrowc n iiiiiiilc wliicli could cast a carclesse sunblant uppon die grcntat mirltictcn of Portiiiic, carildc coiiiiiiaiiiidc it sclfc to wke arc for so s m a l l mat- tcrs. Ncitlrcr lind ilrc iicglcctd tlrc daiiitic drasiiig of her sclfc: but as it had ben h a nrnriagc tiirrc to Affliction, she rdicr sciird to rciiiciuhr hcr owne worthinesse, then the iurwortliiiiwc of licr Irusluiil. For wcll oiic iiriglit pcrccyvc she had not rejected the Coiiiisailc of n glnssc, aid tliar licr Irntrdcr liad plcascd thciiuclvcs, in paying the tribute of ruidcccyviiig skill, to so high prfktioiu of Nature. (pp. 402-03)

In carlicr images-Pyroclcs astridc tlic iiiast, Uraiiia dividing her beauty bctwccn sca and sky-Sidney intcrfuscs lcvcls of reality, human and divine. Hcic hc dissolvcs tlic cdgcs wliicli scparatc inncr from outer, animating the purse with huiiian characteristics, tlic purse in turn taking its beauty &om tlic lilics of Paliela’s hands, die roses of her lips, its flowers their life &om tlie suns of her eyes, her sighs serving as their refreshing breezes. In t h i s way, Sidney cratcs an emblem whidi works on two inseparable levels. With its breezes of sorrow, its beheading of the silk, the wounds of the cloth, the garden of lilics and roses becomes a general mirror of fillen na- ture. At tlie same time, it is an emblem of Pamela’s state of mind. Her carelesse semblant” yet “care for so small nlatters” in the midst of afilic-

tion is, as Tillyard pointed out, “the height of aristocratic irony,” of the nonchalance of s p r c ~ z f f h i r n . ~ ~ Of particular Christian significance is the image of “the cloth loking with many eies upon her, & lovingly embrac- ing the wounds she gave it”; so she herself “with her eyes so lifted to the skie-ward, that one would have thought they had begunne to flie thether- ward, to take their place among their felow stars,” offered up her prayer: 0 Lord, I yeeld unto thy will, and joyfully embrace what sorrow thou

wilt have me suffer” (p. 383). Seen in its entirety, the image of Pamela “woorking uppon a purse cer-

taine Roses and Lillies” is Sidney’s emblem for the face of nature-not a garden free from sorrow and disfigurement, butjoyfd and splendid never- theless, because at its center is not the bride-groom AWiction, but a God who himself “lovingly” embraced his wounds for the redemption of man- kind and who is the bride-groom of the soul. Sidney made analogous em- blems for the face of nature in his images of Philoclea’s face (pp. 369,376). But the purse itself is Pamela’s emblem. It bears witness to the eternal presence of Christ at the center, to the enclosed garden within the human heart as the soul looks toward its “mariage time” to Christ. Any notion of

I 1

L L

14. Tillyard, Epic, p. 318.

Myron Turner 135 some Golden Age outside the human heart must inevitably resemble either the folly of Basilius’ retreat or the depravity of Cecropia’s advice to Artesia “&at there is no wisdome but in including heaven & earth in ones self” @. 98). THE UNIVERSITY OF M A N I T O B A