This dissertation has been microfilmed exactly as received 69-4996

WEAVER, John Joseph William, 1935- RHETORIC AND TRAGEDY IN THOMAS SACKVILLE'S CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE MIRROR FOR MAGISTRATES.

The Ohio State University, Ph.D., 1968 Language and Literature, m odem

University Microfilms, Inc., Ann Arbor, Michigan

® Copyright by John Joseph William Weaver

1969 RHETORIC AND TRAGEDY IN THOMAS SACKVILLE'S CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE MIRROR FOR MAGISTRATES

DISSERTATION Presented in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree Doctor of Philosophy in the Graduate School of The Ohio State University

By John Joseph William Weaver, A.B., M.A.

******

The Ohio State University 1968

Approved by

Adviser Department of ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Like most students, I am immeasurably indebted to those who have taught me. Although a listing of all of them here would be more tedious than, though not as dreary as, Bucking­ ham's catalogues, I take special pleasure in thanking those who made this dissertation possible: Professor Huntington Brown, of the University of Minnesota, who taught me how to write; Professors John B. Gabel and Robert M. Estrich, of The Ohio State University, who taught me how to re-write. But my most enduring and profound gratitude must go to Professor Ruth W, Hughey, my adviser and friend, who by precept and example has taught me that scholarship and scholars can be and must be humane.

ii VITA

November 18, 1935 B o m - Pittsfield, Illinois 1958 ...... A.B., Harvard College, Cambridge, Massachusetts 1958-1960 .... Teacher, Sewickley Academy, Sewickley, Pennsylvania

I9 6 0-I96 2 .... Teaching Assistant, Department of English, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, Minnesota

1 9 6 2...... M.A., University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, Minnesota

I9 6 2-I968 .... Teaching Assistant, Department of English, The Ohio State University, Columbus, Ohio

ill CONTENTS

Page

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS...... il VITA ...... Ill PROLEGOMENA...... 1 CHAPTER I Sadcvillefs Early Life and Education 1^ 11 L o g o s ...... 36 H I E t h o s ...... 88 IV P a t h o s ...... 110 V Conclusion ...... 150 SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY ...... 159 PROLEGOMENA: A DEFENSE OF RHETORIC

No one would deny the value of rhetoric as a useful instrument for literary analysis. Studies in rhetoric have enabled us to assess more precisely the quality of a writer’s style^ or to appreciate the use of rhetorical 2 structures within a work or to discern his use of single 3 rhetorical structures in shaping a complete work. Such studies have demonstrated various writers' skill? in appropriating rhetoric to the purposes of poetry, Yet when a critic appropriates rhetoric to the purposes of his poetic— particularly if he suggests radically new formulations— other critics will helpfully point out his error in confusing the "two literatures." A recent ex­ change between Wilbur S. Howell and Kenneth Burke reveals the dangers and complexities in the relationship between rhetoric and poetic. In "Rhetoric and Poetic: A Plea for the Recognition k of the Two Literatures" Howell objects to Burke’s idiosyn­ cratic rhetorical categories. While granting the truth of Burke's observation that all assertions are at base rhetori­ cal, Howell finds Burke's elaboration of this truth dis-

1 2 concerting:

Burke develops this law in such a way as to indicate that it makes the poetical utterance and the rhetorical utterance specifically alike, and that their common capacity to produce effects argues their identity in method and structure.^

To build his case against Burke, Howell cites numerous critics who have distinguished between the two literatures, from Aristotle, through F&nelon, William Wordsworth, Thomas De Quincey, John Stuart Mill, Walter Pater, to the con­ temporary scholar-critics Hoyt H. Hudson and Charles Sears Baldwin, This list of critics is impressive, and though their terms for the distinctions vary, the distinctions remain essentially the same/ Baldwin’s Ancient Rhetoric and Poetic presents a common m o d e m critical position:

Rhetoric meant to the ancient world the art of instructing and moving men in their affairs* poetic the art of sharpening and expanding their vision.. To borrow a French phrase, the one is composition of ideas; the other, composition of images. The type of the one is a public address, moving us to assent and action; the type of the other is a play, show­ ing us an action moving to an end of character. The one argues and urges; the other represents. Though both appeal to the Imagination, the method of rhetoric is logical; the method of poetic, as well as its detail, is imaginative. To put the contrast with broad simplicity, a speech moves by paragraphs; a play moves by scenes. A paragraph is a logical stage in a progress of ideas; a scene is an emotional stage in a progress controlled by imagination.'

This distinction, however, does some injustice to the classical conception of poetry as an instrument for improving men. In explaining man's natural “delight in works of imitation," Aristotle states that

...to he learning something is the greatest of pleasures not only to the philosopher hut also to the rest of mankind, however small their capacity for it; the reason of the delight in seeing the picture is that one is at the same time learning— gathering the meaning of things, e.g. that the man there is so-and-so; for if one has not seen the thing before, one's pleasure will not he in the picture as an imitation of it, hut will he due to the execution or colouring or some similar cause.®

Although the "assent1' gained hy such an imitation is not exactly that gained hy the orator, the pleasures of learn­ ing are ultimately the same, however arrived at. Horace's advice to poets that they should hoth please and instruct^ is more truly characteristic of views of poetry in antiquity, for there the critics* poetics were often "contaminated" with purposes (and therefore techniques) which would hlur the distinction between rhetoric and poetry. Also, as Burke points out in his answer to Howell, "Baldwin's equating of Rhetoric with idea and Poetic with image.. .|”is] troublesome, since hy this alignment such effective rhetorical images as Churchill's 'iron curtain' or 'power vacuum' would belong in the realm of Poetics." 11 Yet in some of their comments Burke and Howell seem not very far apart. For example, Burke: In sum, where a rhetorician might conceivably 4

argue the cause of Love rather than Duty, or the other way round, in Poetics a pro­ found dramatizing of the conflict itself would be enough; for in this field the imitation of great practical or moral prob­ lems is itself a source of gratification.-1-^ Howell: Drama may be said to pass Judgment upon some aspect of human life by providing an occasion in which that Judgment works itself out in terms of a fictitious drama­ tic action presented to spectators in the theatre. On the other hand, oratory may be said to pass upon some aspect of human life by speaking directly of that aspect in the presence of listeners. In more traditional terms, drama allows Its comment to remain latent and prospective in a fic­ titious plot, in character, in thought, in diction, in melody, and in spectacle, whereas oratory makes its comment overt by uttering a statement formulated through the process of rhetorical Inquiry into the available means of persuasion, through the process of rhe­ torical arrangement that may and often does create and satisfy the desires of the audience by means of syllogistic progression, and through the process of rhetorical style, where words are used, not to deal with reality in terms of the analogous situations created by the poet, but to deal with reality as directly as may be possible in terms of the signs of speech. These rhetorical processes, to which we should add delivery or oral utterance, are of course the chief heads of the theories of rhetoric, according to the Aristotelian and Ciceronian view; and plot, character, thought, diction, melody, and spectacle will be remembered as the chief heads of the theory of poetry In Aristotle's celebrated analysis of Greek tragedy.-*-3

I have quoted from these critics at some length, for their own rhetorical strategies are important in this re­ fusal to meet on common ground. A number of points are immediately obvious. First, though Burke speaks of the 5 rhetorician in terms compatible with Howell's description of oratory, by shifting terms in the second half of his antithesis he avoids speaking of "the poet" and avoids drawing a distinction between "the rhetorician" and "the poet." Thus while the rhetorician "might" produce ora­ tory, the poet is in no way prohibited from using "rhetoric" in his "dramatizing." Secondly, Howell avoids mentioning the creators— poet and rhetorician (orator?)— and by speak­ ing instead about what the kinds of discourse do, he can avoid the question of the inevitable "contamination" which occurs when the actual poet or actual rhetorician borrows techniques of the other's discipline for whatever effects are appropriate to their ends. Thirdly, Howell resorts to Aristotle's categories and distinctions, thus emphasizing that the weight of tradition is on his side; yet Aristotle, himself the most exalted authority for those who stress the distinction between the rhetoric and poetic, allows a certain amount of contamination in the third element of tragedy, Thought,

the power of saying whatever can be said, or what is appropriate to the occasion. This is what, in the speeches of Tragedy, falls under the arts of Politics and Rhetoric; for the older poets make their personages dis­ course like statesmen, and the moderns like rhetoricians.1^

And Diction, too, has its place in both rhetoric and poetic. Fourthly, by using oratory as the equivalent of rhetoric, Howell severely delimits the range and pervasiveness of rhetoric. Finally, and for our immediate purpose perhaps most importantly, Howell's distinction was not generally adhered to in antiquity, nor in the Middle Ages, nor in the Renaissance. One reason for this disparity "between Howell's— and Aristotle's— approach and that of the majority of critics of antiquity as well as those of the Middle Ages and the Renais­ sance was that Aristotle's position represented neither the position of the majority of the Greeks nor that of most later critics. In his concern for imitation and the analysis of the art object itself, Aristotle ignored— with the exception of some references to his Politics, Rhetoric, and Ethics— questions extraneous to the work itself and thus set forth the model of what Richard McKeon calls "scientific criti­ cism." As McKeon observes, Aristotle's emphasis on the governing role of plot is crucial, for

A criterion of unity and structure is thereby rendered available, and on it the possibility of a poetic science depends, for otherwise the analysis of an object of art must reduce the diversity of concepts that might be included under Aristotle's six terms to two broad analytic elements-- form and matter— and must go for its criteria directly to the intention of the artist, or the reaction of the audience, or the technical achievement of the structure.

Yet since most critics and philosophers saw in art a moral concern and since many were thus led to Aristotle's Rhetoric, these critics ignored the primacy of plot, the key concern 7 of the Poetics:

With the gradual disappearance of plot, the Aristotelian scheme of the parts of the poem breaks down and the most prominent of his critical principles become irrelevant. Prin­ ciples and criteria must be supplied from the tradition of rhetoric, and imitation moves to a place of comparative unimportance in the analysis of poetry. Rhetoric, according to Aristotle, is the faculty by which in any sub­ ject we are able to win belief in the hearer. The belief is produced by means of invention, disposing of three means; the character and behavior of the speaker, the character and passions of the hearer, and the proofs which are alleged in the words of the speaker. If some other effect in the hearer is substituted for belief, as Longinus substituted ecstasy, such an analysis might be suited to any branch of literature. The time might even come when invention might take the place of imitation, as indeed Quintilian has recognized its greater importance while protesting it was not a sub­ ject of art. 5

Thus, Aristotle became the father, indeed a misunderstood and abused father, of a critical approach radically dif­ ferent from that of his Poetics. Wow considered the exemplar of “scientific,“ or ‘"mimetic” or “objective” criticism, he was for over fifteen hundred years the adopted father of “pragmatic” criticism. 171 In pragmatic or rhetoric criticism, the rhetoricians appropriated the three rhetorical appeals to the instruction in and analysis of oratory and poetry. Since the poet, like the orator, was supposed to write with an eye on his audience, he very properly was concerned with the means by which he could elicit assent from that audience. Those means 8

Aristotle identified in his Rhetoric;

Of the modes of persuasion furnished by the spoken word there are three kinds. The first kind fethos*] depends upon the personal character of the speaker; the second fpathos on putting the audience into a certain frame of mind; the third flogos~l on the proof, or apparent proof, provided by the words of the speech itself.

In applying the Aristotelian analysis of rhetoric to the analysis of poetry, the rhetorical critic avoids the strict limitations of the Poetics, yet also avoids introducing radically new formulations (like those of Burke), which prompt controversy because of their novelty. He also has an advantage in that the major terms of his analysis (logos, ethos, pathos) are implicit in a major portion of the litera­ ture and criticism from antiquity to the Renaissance, and therefore when they are applied to the literature of that period, they do not attribute to the writers preoccupations which were not theirs. In rhetoric, the logos includes those forms which work toward the reasoned assent of the audience. All logical structures, whether deductive using syllogisms or inductive using examples, work upon the reason of the audience in order to win assent for the orator's thesis. In the poem, the logos includes both the smaller logical forms and the total argument of the poem itself, and the smaller logical forms— in a unified work, at least— contribute to the unified expres­ sion of the poet's theme. Of course, the logical structures or proofs may assume various configurations and may thus direct the audience's attention in different directions. On the one hand, proofs may direct the audience to a consideration of universals; on the other, they may focus attention upon the particular. The varying relationships between these two types of logos inevitably affect the response of the audience as it assents to the truth of the fictive world, possibly accepts truths of that world as valid in this world, too, and thus obtains cognitive pleasure. The ethos of a poem, as of an oration, helps define the person of the narrator or his characters and thus establishes his relationship to his audience. That relationship between the narrator and his audience determines not only the audi­ ence's response to the narrator himself but also its response to what the narrator says, and the distance between the audi­ ence and the experience of the poem. If the narrator him­ self stands in some sense outside the action, the audience, too, will stand outside the action. But if the narrator moves inside the action and he has induced the audience to identify with his position, then the audience, too, will move within the action and experience the fictional world as the narrator experiences it. Pathos, the rhetorical mode for "putting the audience into a certain frame of mind," obviously depends upon the other two modes, as they depend upon each other. In seeking to put his audience in a particular mood, the poet employs 10 devices most likely to trigger the proper responses in the audience. This would seem essentially a function of logos, hut ethos "becomes important, too, in establishing the rela­ tionship of the audience to the material it encounters in the poem. The following chapters will treat the uses which Thomas Sackville made of logos, ethos, and pathos in his two contri­ butions to the 1563 edition of The Mirror for Magistrates. The first chapter will treat briefly Sackville*s early life, the rhetorics available to him, and his conceptions of history and tragedy. In the next three chapters, I will discuss his manipulation of the three appeals in the poems as they appear in the 15&3 edition. Although Sackville*s poems exist in a holograph manuscript, I will use the printed edition and refer to the manuscript only to emend obvious printer's errors, for the printed copy shows some careful revisions by the poet and therefore comes closer to representing his final conception. 19 x And, finally, I will suggest how Sack­ ville' s emphasis in the use of these rhetorical appeals differs from the emphasis of the other contributors to The Mirror and how this emphasis looks toward the great dramatic tragedies of the end of the century. NOTES TO PROLEGOMENA

1 E.g., Sister M. Salome Antoine, The Rhetoric of Jeremy Taylor's Prose: Ornament of the Sunday Sermons (Washington, £). C., 1946).

2 E.g., Milton Boone Kennedy, The Oration in Shakespeare (Chapel Hill, 1942); Sister Miriam Joseph, Shakespeare»s Use of the Arts of Language (New York, 1947T1 T. W. Baldwin, William Bhakspere's Small Latine & Lesse Greeke, 2 vols. Urlana, 1944) . 3 E.g., Jim W. Corder, “Rhetoric and Meaning in Religio Lalci.^ PMLA. LXXXII (1 9 6 7). 245-249; or Kenneth Myrick's analysis of Sir Philip Sidney's Defence of Poesie as a classical oration in Chapter 2 of Sir Philip Sidney as a Literary Craftsman (Cambridge, Mass., 1935). “ 4 Wilbur S. Howell, “Rhetoric and Poetic; A Plea for the Recognition of the Two Literatures," The Classical Tradi­ tion: Literary and Historioal Studies in Honor of Harry daplan, ed. Lultpold Wallaoh (Ithaca. 1956X7 PP.'37 4 - 5 90. 5 Howell, p. 377. 6 The distinction in Fenelon is, significantly, the weakest; “Believing that an oration and a poem are at their best both persuasive and delightful, |[P6 nelon^] found the distinction between them by saying that good oratory is almost poetry— that 'poetry differs from simple eloquence only in this: that she points with ecstasy and with bolder strokes." Howell, p. 378. 7 Quoted in Howell, pp. 379-380, 8 Aristotle, Poetics, trains. Ingraun By water (New York,

11 12

195*0, i****8b1 3-2 0. 9 Horace, Art of Poetry, trans. Walter Jackson Bate, in Criticism: the Major fexts (New York, 1952), lines 333-3**?.

10 Donald Lemen Clark, Rhetoric and Poetry in the Renais­ sance (New York, 1922), pp. llo-lll.

11 Kenneth Burke, “Rhetoric and Poetics,” Language as Symbolic Action: Essays in Life, Literature,~~and Method (Berkeley and Los Angeles,T9 6 6 ), pp. 305-306.

12 Burke, p. 2 9 6. 13 Howell, p. 381. In connection with Howell's use of the term “occasion,” his earlier quotation from Hoyt H. Hudson might be seen as an argument against him: “The writer in pure literature has his eye on his subject; his subject has filled his mind and engaged his interest, and he must tell about it; his task is expression; his form and style are organic with his subject. The writer of rhetorical discourse has his eye upon the audience and occasion; his task is persuasion; his form and style are organic with the occasion.” Howell, p. 380.

b Poetics, 1^50 5-8. 15 Richard McKeon, “The Philosophic Basis of Art and Criticism,” Critics and Criticism, Abridged Ed. (Chicago, 1957), P. 26T. 16 Richard McKeon, “Literary Criticism and the Concept of Imitation in Antiquity,” Critics and Criticism, pp. 1*KL- 14-2.

17 The first term is McKeon's; the second, third, and fourth are M. H. Abrams' in his The Mirror and the Lamp (New York, 1958), pp. 8-29. 18 „ Rhetoric, trans. W. Rhys Roberts (New York. 195**) . 1356 l^tfl----- 13

19 The manuscript itself reveals that Sackville had been at work revising this copy, but he apparently completed his revisions only in the proofs for the 1563 edition. See Marguerite Hearsey, The Complaint of Henry Duke of Bucking­ ham, Including the Induction, or, Ihomas Sackville^ Con­ tributions to the "Tffi'rror for Hagl str'ates^ (New .Haven, 1936). pp. 16-19, and Paul Bacquet, Un contemporain d»Elisabeth I: Thomas Sackville, l ’homme et TToeuvre (Geneva. 19661 pp. T 6 9- Chapter I

SACKVILLE'S EARLY LIFE AND EDUCATION

Like any writer, Thomas Sackville was significantly influenced by the milieu in which he composed his poems. Therefore, an understanding of the facts about his early life, Tudor education and the role of rhetoric in poetry, and contemporary attitudes toward history and tragedy becomes an essential prerequisite for an appreciation of the poems themselves. Shortly after Sackville saw his last major literary production placed before the public,^ there occurred one of the more providential gatherings for English letters. On December 10, 15&3. Roger Ascham dined with a number of court officials at Windsor, the Queen having removed her court from the city because of the plague. After the dinner, at which most of the gentlemen expressed their views on recent educa­ tional procedures, Sir Richard Sackville, treasurer of the exchequer and father of Thomas, expressed his great interest in Ascham's views, particularly those upon the deplorable disciplinary steps taken by some schoolmasters, notably Nicholas Udall of Eton, which made young boys hate, not love, 15 education. After showing his dissatisfaction with the quality of his own schooling, Sir Richard indicated his desire to see that his young grandson’s education should be more satisfactory!

But seeing it is but in vain to lament things past, and also wisdom to look to things to come, surely, God willing, if God lend me life, I will make this mishap some occasion of good hap to little Robert Sackville, my son’s son, for whose bringing up, I would gladly, if it so g please you, use specially your good advice.

Sir Richard's request is important, of course, because it led Ascham to set down his ideas on education in The Schole- master. But this statement is also important in another regard, for it reflects the universal, but peculiarly Tudor, commitment to learning from past errors. This commitment informed not only the ideal of living, but also much of the literature of the mid-century. If Queen Elizabeth was not moved by the Gorboduc of Richard's son, at least his young grandson's educational career indicates that Sir Richard's, and no doubt Thomas', concern led to properly rewarding re­ sults. From the statements of his contemporaries, one may assume that the education of Thomas Sackville was equally fruitful, but unfortunately the poet's early years are 3 clouded by mists of many unreliable false traditions. Thomas Sackville was b o m in 1536 or 1537 at Buckhurst, a family property in the parish of Withyham, Sussex. Al­ though his youth was no doubt very much like that of other 16 young boys from wealthy and considerable families, the matter of his education up until the time he entered the Inner Temple on July 1, 1555* is conjectural. A possible reference to the young student occurs in the register of the Court of Augmentations (37 Henry VIII) dealing with the church at Sullington, Sussex;

Thomas Sackville, Incumbent, being a student at the gramer schole, of thage of xiii, hath the premises toward his exhibition, iij li. xvJ s.5

The inconsistency of the age given (Thomas would have been no more than ten years old) has led Paul Bacquet to con­ sider this entry a reference to another Thomas Sackville, perhaps a boy in a younger branch of the family, since Thomas was a common Christian name among the Sackvilles. M. Bacquet has also discovered that no grammar school existed at Sullington in the sixteenth century. Another false scent derives from C. J. Phillips* sug- 7 gestion that Thomas attended a school at Lullington. But since Phillips' work contains a number of inaccuracies and since he appears to rely upon Sidney Lee's Dictionary of National Biography article, "Lullington" is probably an error in transcription. Besides, there is no record of such a school in 1560 or before. Marguerite Hearsey, who was first to cite the reference to the Thomas Sackville in the register of the Court of Augmentations, has suggested that the school was actually at Southover, an institution 17 which moved to Lewes in 1714 but was probably referred to as Lewes Grammar School before it was moved. Such an assign­ ment would agree with the listings in the Victoria County

Q History of Sussex. Thus, although the reference to Thomas Sackville cannot with certainty be said to refer to the poet, it is by no means improbable that Thomas attended one of the grammar schools in Sussex. Another hypothesis— attractive, though dubious— put forth by C. H. Cooper, is that Thomas Sackville studied under the direction of Roger Ascham himself.'* Certainly in his numerous absences from St. John's, perhaps during his term as preceptor of Elizabeth, 1548-1549, Ascham might have been persuaded by his friend and benefactor, Sir Richard Sackville, to instruct young Thomas. However, Cooper based his specu­ lations upon the agreement between Sir Richard and Ascham as stated in The Scholemaster, but Ascham, of course, does not mention Thomas specifically in that work, so Cooper's sug­ gestion must remain purely speculative. As Bacquet commentss

II n'est evidemment pas impossible que Sir Richard ait fait appel a Ascham parce que ce dernier aurait d£ja form£ Thomas. Mais ce que frappe, c'est qu'Ascham qul, par ailleurs, et notamment dans ces lettres a Jean Sturm, loue avec tant de complaisance et d*enthousiasme les connaissances de sa royale &Leve, ne fasse pas l'^lage du cousin de celle-ci et du fils de son bienfaiteur, alors que Thomas 4ta.lt connu a l'epoque pour ses qualites de poete et de dramaturge. ®

However, if Thomas neither received the standard grammar school training nor studied under the benevolent preceptor 18 Aschara, he no doubt would have been trained under another preceptor, as was common practice with the sons of the wealthy, and such training would have prepared him thorough­ ly for a university career. Unfortunately, the facts about his advanced education are just as vague or nonexistent as those about his grammar school education. George Abbot, in his funeral sermon, suggested Sackville's presence at Oxford;

As an honorable person, and a Chancellor of Estate hath advertised me Her Highnesse was (then) pleased to decipher out his life, by seven steps or degrees: The first was his younger dales, the time of his scholarship, when first in that famous Vniversitie of Oxford, and afterward in the Temple, . . . he gave tokens of such pregnancie, such studiousnesse and iudgement, that he was held in no way inferiour to any of his time or standing.1-1-

Anthony Wood made this claim more precise in his Fasti Oxonlensls, saying that Sackville resided at Hart Hall during Mary's reign. 12 Most of Sackville's biographers and critics have followed Wood, though, as Sidney Lee and more recently Paul Bacquet noted, there is no documentary evidence to support this conclusion. Bacquet suggests that the tradition may have arisen because Robert Sackville, son of Thomas, entered Hart Hall about 1576 and later writers have confused 13 the father and son. A similar confusion probably led Wood to claim a Cambridge education for Sackville:

Afterwards he retired for some time to Cambridge, where he had the degree of M. of A. conferr'd upon him.-*-^ 19 While many later scholars have accepted the implications of

-i r* Wood's statement and have even embellished the legend, D Wood had no doubt confused a later honorary degree with an earned one. In 1571 Sackville traveled to Cambridge with the French Ambassador Paul de Foix and then received an honorary degree from the university. But again, as in the case of Oxford, Sackville's name does not appear among the registers of students enrolled. Of course, it is entirely possible that Sackville took advantage of one of the universities' facili­ ties without actually enrolling, as did many young men dur­ ing this period. Such a course would be consistent with Abbot's assertions about Oxford in the funeral sermon. 17 However, Sackville*s university career, like his grammar school career, must remain entirely conjectural. Although we cannot state precisely where Sackville took his schooling nor precisely what texts he used and though the details of each program varied from school to school, the authors read and the program followed were de­ termined in large measure by the dictates of Erasmus. In the lower forms of the grammar schools, the student received training in the fundamentals of Latin grammar and syntax and read in the appropriate classical writers of prose and poetry. In the upper forms of the schools, the students proceeded to more extended forms of composition, first composing letters with the aid of the Epistolae and the Copia of Erasmus, then the themes following the topics and patterns established by Aphthonius in his Progymnasmata. 20 and finally the oration with the aid of Ad Herennlum, Quintilian, or Cicero, or a combination of these. During this work in extended prose composition, the student would also be mastering the principles of versification and would demonstrate his progressive mastery of verse in poetic composition. By the time Thomas Sackville would have entered one of the Sussex grammar schools (if, indeed, he did enter one) ip these schools had attained a high degree of uniformity. The Canterbury Curriculum of 15^1 appears to have been fair­ ly representative of the schools as a whole and reveals some of their substance and tenors

The whole number of the scholars shall be divided into five or six ranks or classes The Under Master shall teach the three lower, and the Head Master the three upper classes. No one shall be admitted into the school who cannot read readily, or does not know by heart in the vernacular the Lord's Prayer, the Angelic Salutation, the Apostle's Creed and the Ten Commandments. Those who are wholly Ignorant of Grammar shall learn the accidents of nouns and verbs, as it were out of class. When they have learnt these they shall be taken into the First Class. In the First Class they shall learn thorough­ ly by heart the rudiments in English; they shall learn to put together the parts of speech; and to turn a short phrase of English into Latin; and gradually to approach other easy construc­ tions. In the Second Class they shall learn a little higher; they shall know the genders of nouns and the inflections of verbs written into Latin; they shall run through Cato's verse, Aesop's Fables, and some familiar Colloquies. In the Third Class they shall endeavour to make right varyings on the nouns and anomalous verbs, so that no noun or verb may be found anywhere which they do not know how to inflect 21 In every detail. In this form too they shall make Terence’s Comedies, Mantuanus' Eclogues, and other things of that sort thoroughly famil­ iar to them.

In the Fourth Form the boys shall be taught to know the Latin syntax readily; and shall be practised in the stories of poets, and familiar letters of learned men and the like. In the Fifth Form they shall commit to memory [[in Latin[j the Figures of. . . Oratory and the rules for making verses; and at the same time shall be practised in making verses and polish­ ing themes; then they shall be versed in trans­ lating the chastest Poets and the best Histori­ ans. Lastly, in the Sixth Form they shall be In­ structed in the formulas of ’Copiousness of Words and Things’ written by Erasmus* and learn to make varyings of speech in every mood so that they may acquire the faculty of speaking Latin, as far as is possible for boys. Meanwhile they shall taste Horace, Cicero and other authors of that class. Meanwhile they shall compete with one another in declamations so that they may leave well learned in the school of argument.

Although this curriculum is not as specific in its references as we would like it, other curricula and the writings of the humanist educators of this period enable us to surmise those authors not mentioned specifically in the program. In the second form, the colloquies would have been those of

Erasmus, as they were at Bury St. Edmund’s in 1550,20 or the shorter dialogues of Cicero. In the third year the student would no doubt have read Virgil's Bucolics and Georgies as well as those of Mantuan. 21 The "familiar letters of learned men" studied in the fourth class doubt- less included those of Cicero 22 complemented with Erasmus' On Copiousness of Diction and Letterwrlting.^3 Of the his­ 22 torians studied in the fifth class, Caesar, Sallust, Livy, Tacitus, and Plutarch were probably the more popular, as their names appear most regularly among the lists of those historians used by or recommended for use by the grammar 2 Ll schools. And, of course, though the text is not men­ tioned specifically, the students would probably read Virgil's Aeneid, The purpose of such an education was the cultivation of man's faculties, the nourishing of reason which would lead him to be, if not Erasmus' "Christian Prince" nor Elyot's "Governour", at least a good Christian and a good citizen. While learning grammar and rhetoric, he also learned virtue from the texts he studied, but virtue which did not manifest itself through speech and action was a worthless thing; therefore, the arts of persuasion, as pro­ vided in the various rhetorical texts, were an essential part of the Tudor gentleman's training. To be like Cicero's perfect orator, who possessed "the subtlety of the logician, the thoughts of a philosopher, a diction almost poetic, a lawyer's memory, a tragedian's voice, aid the bearing al- most of the consummate actor," was to become a good man who could serve the state effectively. To achieve such perfec­ tion, the individual had to rely upon art which enabled him to perfect that which nature had given him, and in the six­ teenth century, as Raphe Lever indicated, "artes are knit together in such a bande of knowledge, that no man can be cunning in anye one but he must have some knowlledge in 23 2 manye.n And with regard to the arts of language, George Puttenham indicated how they improve upon Nature:

But what else is language and utterance, and discourse & persuasion, and argument in man, then the vertues of a well consti­ tute "body and minde, little less naturall then his very sensuall actions, saving that the one is perfited by nature at once, the other not without exercise & iteration? . . . And yet I am not ignorant, that there be artes and methods both to speake and to perswade and also, to dis­ pute, and by which the natural is in some sorte . . . relieved in his imperfection . . . in which respect I call those artes of Grammar, Loglcke, and Rhetorick . . . by long and studious observation rather a repetition or reminlscens naturall, re­ duced into perfection, and made prompt by use and exercise, . . . Also in that which the Poet speakes or reports of another mans tale or doings, as Homer of Priamus or Ullsses . , , in that he speakes figurative­ ly, or argues subtillle, or perswades co­ piously and vehemently, he doth as the cunning gardiner that using nature as a coadjutor, furders his conclusions & many times makes her effectes more abso­ lute and straunge,27

The tools with which the poet cultivated his garden are obviously borrowed from the disciplines of logic and rhetoric, and however much some critics like Vives might object to the confusion of disciplines, 2ft ° this confusion remained commonplace throughout the Renaissance. Given the inclination of the poet to borrow from the rhetorician and the long-continuing conception of poetry as an instrument for moral edification, the Tudor students in general and Thomas Sackville in particular would have found it quite normal to appropriate the devices discussed by 2^ the rhetoricians they studied. In the upper forms of the grammar schools, Sackville might have encountered Cicero's Toploa, De inventione, De partitione oratoria, De oratore, and the Rhetorica ad Herennlum, in which he would have learned the places of invention and the divisions of rhetoric and the oration.2^ He might also have studied Quintilian's Institutes, which covered the types of the oration, its divisions, the places, and figures of thought and speech in a more intensive and philosophical manner. Although Aristotle's Rhetoric was little more than referred to, even at the universities,-^0 he could possibly have be­ come acquainted with it if he associated with Ascham or another of the colleagues of Cheke. 31 If Sackville might have missed one or two of the major texts, he could hardly have escaped Erasmus' De duplicl co-pia verborum et rerum, which was designed to encourage the student's facility in presenting arguments. While Erasmus' text suggested means of giving an argument variety, the practice of "copy" often led to simple heaping, the dangers of which are Implicit in Thomas Wilson's comments;

Amplifying of the matter consisteth in heaping and enlarging of those places, which serveth for confirmation of a matter. Yea, words that fill the mouth and have a sound with them, set forth a matter very well. And sometimes words twice spoken make the matter appear greater.32

This training in amplification made it easier for the student 25 to deal with the themes, the preliminary to composition of full orations. In preparing themes Sackville would have used one of the Progymnasmata devised by three Greek sophistic rhetoricians, Aelius Theon, Hermogenes of Tarsus, and Aphthonius. 33 Of these three rhetoricians, Aphthonius was by far the most 3A popular during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries,-' and Erasmus* Copia was designed as a preliminary study and introduction to Aphthonius, Cicero, Quintilian, and the 3< Rhetorlca ad Herennlum. ^ The fourteen exercises of the Progymnasmata were arranged in ascending order of difficulty so that the students could progress with relatively little pain from simple Fable (Exercise I) to the more demanding Proposal of a Law (Exercise XIV), and these exercises of­ fered an additional benefit in that they provided the stu­ dents with a model for organization as well as the places in which the exercise could be developed. Also, these exercises (as will be indicated in the appropriate chapters following) proved particularly useful for the writer of narrative poetry. Each of these rhetorical texts studied by the Tudor student, the rhetorical analyses to which classical texts were submitted in the schools, the current state of literary theory, and the conception of poetry as an instrument of moral instruction, all impelled the mld-sixteenth-century writer to "contaminate** his poetic with rhetoric. Certain­ ly the poet's interest with the figures has been demonstrated 26 countless times, but the figures were not ends in themselves; they were devices which the poet used in manipulating the logos, ethos, and pathos of his poems in order to edify his audience. To the Renaissance Englishman, history and tragedy, like rhetoric and poetry, served an educative function, particular­ ly as moral instruction. The very title of the book to which Sackville contributed his two long poems indicates the in­ structive purpose of that collection, and William Baldwin, in his Dedication to the 1559 edition of The Mirror, indi­ cates quite clearly the moral purpose of the book. After lamenting the ascendancy of misrule and political instability in the past, Baldwin warns:

God can not of Iustice, but plage such shameles presumption and hipocrisy, and that with shamefull death, diseases, or infamy. Howe he hath plaged euill rulers from time to time, in other nacions, you may see gathered in Boccas book into Englishe by Lydgate: Howe he hath delt with sum of our countrymen your auncestors for sundrye vices not yet left, this booke named A Myrrour for Magistrates, can shewe: which therefore 1 humbly offrevnto your honors, beseching you to accept it fauorably. For here as in a loking glas, you shall see (if any vice be in you) howe the like hath bene punished in other heretofore, whereby admonished, I trust it will be a good occa­ sion to move you to the soner amendment. This is the chiefest ende, whye it is set furth, which God graunt it may a t t a y n e . 3 6

These sentiments that history revealed the Judgment of God and the hopes that, in becoming aware of such Judgments, contemporaries might avoid the political corruptions and 2? turmoil of the past informed the writings of educators and historians alike, for political ambition was repugnant to God at all times, and to Englishmen and English monarchs of the late fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, for whom the recent Wars of the Roses were merely the day before yester­ day, political instability was a major terror. When men in the mid-sixteenth century read Fabyan’s comment in his chronicle of Richard III:

Tedyous it is to me to wryte the tragedyous hystory, except that I re- membre that good it is to wryte and put in rememberaunce the punysshment of synners, to the ende that other may exchewe to fall in lyke daunger,37 they would be sure to recognize the ’’tediousness" of the history and the dangers of ignoring it, for the pattern of history was sufficiently repetitive that men could learn what to avoid in the present because in the past it had produced unfortunate results. The reading public, however, obviously did not find the reading of history tedious. In chronicles and chronicle plays they sought the gratification which comes with the understanding of past events but which also comes from a discovery of sometimes perilous analogies between the past and present. In The Mirror for Magistrates, the writers sought to gratify and edify a public particularly interested in the moral operations of history, and the publishers of the various editions of The Mirror were no doubt properly rewarded for their efforts. Between 1555» when a first attempt was made to publish The Mirror, and 1610, when Richard Nichols collected all the Mirror tragedies in a single edition, the Baldwin Mirror went through nine issues. The edition of 1555 was suppressed by the authorities be­ cause two of the original tragedies reflected too obvious-

O Q ly some of the activities of Mary's subjects. In 1559» however, Baldwin and his colleagues, George Ferrers, Thomas Chaloner, and Thomas Phaer, were able to present to the public a collection of nineteen tragedies dealing with events of the preceding century.^ The 1563 edition, which contained the contributions of Sackville, reprinted the original nineteen with eight additional tragedies.Al­ though Baldwin's Mirror appeared again in 1571. 1574, and 1575. no new tragedies were added until the edition of 1578, which Included Ferrers' tragedies of Eleanor Cobham and Humphrey Plantagenet. The final four tragedies^ of Baldwin' collection were not added until 1587. In the meantime, however, The Mirror acquired a new title, The Last parte of the Mirror for Magistrates (1574), for John Higgins, recognizing the popularity of the original Mirror, had created a supplementary work entitled The FIRST parte of the Mirour. . ., which covered English history from the time of Brute to the time of Christ. Since Higgins' collection, like Baldwin's, was published by Thomas Marshe, the two volumes could have been combined as one, and in 1575 Marshe reissued Higgins' and Baldwin's tragedies some- times bound in a single volume as was the case with the 1587 edition. In 1578 Thomas Blenerhasset had tried to fill the void between Higgins* and Baldwin's collections with twelve tragedies in The Second part of the Mirrour for Magistrates, conteinlng the falles of the infortunaie Princes of this Lande. Prom the Conquest of Caesar vnto the oommyng of Duke William the Conquerour, but Blenerhasset*s collection did not join those of Baldwin and Higgins until Richard Nichols gathered them all together and added ten new hfZ tragedies in 1610 under the title, A Winter Night's Vision. Although the tragedies within these collections reveal vary­ ing attitudes toward history, implicit in all is the belief that the historical example provided guides for present political conduct. This attitude toward history was not confined to printed texts. Standing upon the scaffold after the failure of his rebellion in 155^» Sir Thomas Wyatt the Younger voiced a similar view:

Lo here & se in me the same end which all other commonly had, which haue at­ tempted like enterprice from the begyn- ning. For peruse the Chronicles through, and you shall see that neuer rebellion attempted by subiectes against their prince and countrye from the begynning did euer prosper or had better successe, . . .

In surveying a number of such submissions to the decrees of fate by the political rebel of Renaissance England, Lacey Baldwin Smith concludes that unsuccessful outcomes of politi­ 30 cal adventures led the perpetrators to surmise that their lack of success indicated God's judgment upon them. If history taught men the dangers of political ambition and civil instability, the medieval tragedies taught them the dangers of living. Man had often been the victim of blind or Janus-faced Fortune, who tempted men to overreach themselves. In his study of The Medieval Heritage of Eliza- kc be than Tragedy, Willard Famham notes that in The Mirror we discover a shift from denial of the fleshly world to a new recognition of the good in this world. While we are not at the moment concerned with the metaphysical basis for these two attitudes toward the tragic world, we might note that the progressive intensification of tragedy came from "a shift of emphasis in the Christian ethical scheme from its theological to its psychological aspect." kG This shift also entailed certain shifts in rhetorical strategies, which the following chapters will discuss in detail. NOTES TO CHAPTER I

1 The Induction and The Complaint appeared in the second edition of The Mirror for Magistrates, which Thomas Marshe was licensed to print between July 22, 1562, and July 22, 1563. See Edward Arber, A Transcript of the Registers of the Company of Stationers of London, l3ffif-l6^0 A.t)~ I (London, I873T. 2 0 8. 2 Roger Ascham, The Soholemaster, ed. Edward Arber (£London?j 1 8 7 0), p. 2 3. 3 Paul Bacquet, in his Un oontemporain d 1Elisabeth _I: Thomas Sackville, 1 1homme et 1 1oeuvre (Geneva, 1 9 6 6) , has presented what is by far tKe most tKorough study of Sack- vllle's life, and in the following sketch I draw heavily upon his work.

Jacobus Swart, Thomas Sackville, A Study in Sixteenth- Century Poetry (Groningen, 19^9)» P* 7; Bacquet, p. 33. 5 Marguerite Hearsey, The Complaint of Henry Duke of Buckingham, Including the Induction, of,T h o m a s SackviTTe*s Contribut'ion~to the Mirror~‘for Magistrates (New Haven, 1956), p. 2 2, n. 1 3. 6 The Victoria History of the County of Sussex mentions none. ‘It does, however, mention schools at Chichester, Cuckfield, Horsham, and Lewes in 15^8. The first record of a school at Sullington does not appear until l6o5* noted by J. E. Wadey in "Schools and Schooling in Sussex," The Sussex Notes and Queries, XIV (May, November, 1957)• 217-220, 270-272“ 3Sso see Bacquet, p. 26. 7 C. J. Phillips, History of the Sackville Family (London, 1930), I, 151.

31 32

8 See note 6 above.

9 Thomas and C. H. Cooper, Athenae Cantabrlgenses (Cambridge, 1858), II, ^8^.

10 Bacquet, p. 28.

11 A Sermon preached at Westminster May 26 l6o8 At the Fvnerall 'Bol'emnities of the Right Honorable Thomas Ear'le*"of Dorset , Late L. High Treasurer of England (London, l6o8), p. TT. 12 Athenae Oxonlenses (London, 1815), col. 256 and p. 109; Bacquet") p." j}0.

13 Sidney Lee, "Sackville, Thomas," The Dictionary of National Biography; Bacquet, p. 30. 14 Athenae Oxonlenses, col. 30.

15 Bacquet, pp. 30-31. 16 Oxford conferred an honorary degree upon Sackville in 1591, when he became Chancellor of that university. 17 Bacquet, p. 30. 18 T. W. Baldwin, in William Shakspere1s Small Latlne & Lesse Greeke (Urbana, 19^0 • IT 164, notes that after the reorganization of the cathedral schools the regulations of the schools were fairly standardized. Further, in the "two cases in which curricula were appended to the regulations, the curricula are essentially Identical. ..."

19 Arthur F. Leach, trans., in Educational Charters and Documents 598 to 1909 (Cambridge, 1911), pp. ^64-469. 20 T. W. Baldwin, I, 297. 33

21 At Bury St. Edmund’s, these are read in the same year. See T. W. Baldwin, I, 2 9 8. 22 John Sturm, in De Llterarum Ludis Reote Aperlendls Liber, placed Cicero’s Epistles in his eighth class or second year. See T. W. Baldwin, I, 286. 23 This work was used in the fourth class at Bury St. Ed­ mund's. See T. W. Baldwin, I, 2 9 8. 24 In the many classical parallels pointed out In The Complaint. Sackville drew most heavily upon Plutarch, Valerius Maximus, and Lydgate.

25 Cicero, De oratore, I, xxviii, 128. 26 The Arte of Reason. Rightly Termed Witcraft (London, 1573) . p. 9 0, cited in Sister Miriam Joseph’, Shakespeare’s Use of the Arts of Language (New York, 194?), p. 7. 27 The Arte of English Poesle (Cambridge, 193&). pp. 305ff., cited in Sister Miriam Joseph, p. 7. 28 Vives: 11 The modems confound the arts by reason of their resemblance and of two that are very much opposed to each other make a single art. They call rhetoric grammar, and grammar rhetoric, because both treat of language. The poet they call orator, and the orator poet, because both put eloquence & harmony into their discourses." Cited in Donald Lemen Clark, Rhetoric and Poetic in the Renaissance (New York, 1 9 2 2), p.”77K

29 Madeleine Doran, In Endeavors of Art: A Study of Form in Elizabethan Drama (Madison, 1964), is skeptical aboutHEhe general use of De oratore (p. 38), but T. W. Baldwin (II, 6 2 ) indicates that it was the most frequently cited of Cicero’s rhetorical works. 30 Doran, p. 36. 31 Aschara encouraged the reading of the Rhetoric. See 3^ A Beport and Discourses. . . of the Affairs and State of (Germany, cited in "TT'TT Baldwin ,”T7 ?W. ------32 Cited in Doran, p. ^9-

33 See Francis R. Johnson, "Two Renaissance Textbooks of Rhetoric," HL^, VI (19^3). 427-W*. 34 Donald Lemen Clark, in "The Rise and Fall of Progym- nasmata in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Century Grammar Schools," Speech Monographs, XIX (1952), 259-263. Indicates that Hermogenes declined as the work of Priscian, who had translated Hermogenes* Progymnasmata as his Praeexerclta- menta, declined in popularity^ Theon was translated but once in the sixteenth century, while Aphthonius fared much betters "From 1507 to 1680 he was given ten several Latin versions by ten several translators as well as an eleventh version made by combining two previous translations. There are 114 different printings that I have been able to identi­ fy and record" (p. 2 6l). 35 T. W. Baldwin, I, 300. Of course, in the curriculum of Canterbury, cited above (pp. 20-21), De copia did not appear until the final form, while the student was writing themes in the penultimate form. Thus, the themes might not have been written with Aphthonius as a model, though they probably were. Even if the student did not encounter Aphthonius there, he almost certainly would have used that rhetorician's exercises before moving on to the orations, particularly if he went on to a university. 36 The Mirror for Magistrates, ed. Lily B. Campbell (^Cambridge, 19381 New York, i9 6 0), pp. 65-66. All cita­ tions of Sackville's poems are to this edition, hereafter cited as The Mirror. 37 Robert Fabyan, The New Chronicles of England and France (London, 15l6) , p. 670. 38 E. I. Feasey, "The Licensing of The Mirror for Magistrates." The Library. 4-th Series, ill", 1 7 7-I9 3, argued that the falls of Edmund, Duke of Somerset, and of Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, and his wife, were objectionable to Bishop Gardiner and were therefore banned from the 1559 edition. L. B. Campbell, "Humphrey Duke of Gloucester 35 and Elianor Cobham His Wife in The Mirror for Magistrates,” Huntington Library Bulletin, No. 5, pp. 119-155.suggests that Feasey has stressed Gardlner's role too much and that these tragedies reveal marked similarities to the falls of the Seymours and to Elizabeth's supposed machinations against her sister.

39 In this summary of the publishing history, I draw freely upon L, B. Campbell’s introduction to her edition The Mirror, pp. 3-20. 40 In addition to Sackville's two poems, to the 15&3 edition were added the tragedies of Lord Rivers; Lord Hast­ ings, by John Dolman; the poet Collingbourne, by Baldwin; Richard III, by Francis Seager; Shore's wife, by Thomas Churchyard; Edmund, Duke of Somerset, by Ferrers; and the Blacksmith, by Cavyl. 41 These included two poems— one about James IV, the other about Flodden Field— taken from a Scots manuscript (see Campbell, The Mirror, pp. 19, 548-554), and the tragedies of Sir Nicholas Burdet and Cardinal Wolsey. 42 Nichols' "Induction” bears some close verbal echoes of Sackville's poem. See Mirror for Magistrates, ed. Joseph Haslewood (London, 1815), II, pt. 2, p. 546ff. 43 Quoted in Richard Grafton, A Chronicle at Large. . . . (London, 1 5 6 9), pp. 1341-1342. 44 "English Treason Trials and Confessions in the Six­ teenth Century," JHI, XV (1938), 471-498.

4 5 Oxford, 1 9 6 3. 46 Doran, p. 121. Chapter II

LOGOS

Even the most casual readers of Sackville*s two poems in The Mirror for Magistrates, "The Induction** and **The Com­ plaint of Henry Duke of Buckingham," will recognize a marked difference between the rhetorical techniques and effects of the two poems. Most obviously, they treat material different in kind and in source. "The Complaint of Henry Duke of Buck­ ingham" draws its materials from history, "The Induction" from Aeneas* descent into the underworld and the medieval al­ legorical dream visions. This distinction, while obvious, significantly affects the relationship between the two major impulses in poetry and, consequently, determines the character of the rhetoric employed in the two poems. The logos of Sackville*s poems is of two basic types, both aiding in articulating the "argument" of the poems: the logos appeals to the understanding either through the generaliz­ ing forms of argumentation like the inartificial proofs which both poets and orators might use for explicit moralizing or through those rhetorical forms which enabled the poet to render vividly the particulars of his narrative, scene, and character.

36 In the Progymnasmata of Aphthonius, Sackville would have found a number of rhetorical exercises treating topics appropriate to each kind of logos. Six of the exercises— Chrela. Proverb. Refutation. Confirmation. Thesis, and Proposal of Law— lend themselves to explicit moralizing or espousing of universal truths. Of these, the Thesis. Chrela. and Proverb provided topics most easily apropri- ated to the purposes of didactic narrative poetry, the Thesis providing those topics (the lawful, the Just, the rational, the possible1) particularly appropriate to poems which, like “The Complaint,M deal with political and histori­ cal matters. The Chrela and the Proverb are closely related exercises which aid in demonstrating the truth of a particu­ lar statement, the Chrela presenting “a brief bit of advice 2 bearing appropriately on some person,” and the Proverb presenting ”a concise expression in the form of a statement 3 promoting something, or opposing it."^ Although they share a mode of organization too expansive for narrative poetry, within the divisions for organization they emphasize the importance of ”example,” “analogy,” and “testimony of ancients.” The Proverb may fit a number of classifications, depending upon its purpose (“hortatory,” “dissuading,” “declaratory”), its form (“simple,” “compound”), and its persuasiveness (“convincing” CAvS** probably true}* "real” [1..e., always true], “exaggerated") Presumably the Chrela may assume the same functions for “the chrela differs from 38 the proverb in that the former is sometimes active, whereas the proverb is always verbal, and in that the ohreia must be the pronouncement of an individual, but the proverb is universally proclaimed.The terms active and verbal indicate two modes of demonstration; the Chreia may be demonstrated through speech (verbal) or through action or through a combination of speech and action. Since the Chreia can demonstrate the truth of a proposition solely through action, it may in poetry be reduced to a simple exemplum. In this respect it is similar to the Fable, the first exercise, which tells a simple story but adds a moral at the beginning (pro- 7 mythlum) or at the end (epimythium). Upon these explicit argumentative devices, Sackville relies heavily both in fram­ ing and punctuating “The Complaint," while he uses them less often in "The Induction." Of the remaining exercises of Aphthonius, two— the Tale and the Description— are particularly important for render-

Q lng the substance of the story. Aphthonius distinguishes between the tale and the story, comparing the former to a poetic fiction or episode and the latter to a unified poetic composition. Thus, in a longer narrative composition one would expect to find a number of tales or episodes. In dis­ tinguishing the kinds of tales Aphthonius has some difficulty in keeping his categories separated,^ for the dramatic (fic­ tion), historical (tales of old), and the civil (used by orators) are not mutually exclusive. However, the division 39 of the Tale Into its six constituents is more satisfactory, for it treats those areas which must contribute to the full realization of a narratives ’'personal agent, the thing done, in what time, in what place, in what manner, for what cause,"1® These divisions are more precise than those set forth for the epidiectic orations, which emphasize the agent, and more com­ prehensive than those for the judicial orations, which are chiefly concerned with motives and occasion.11 Juan Luis Vives, in discussing the narration, presents Aphthonius* topics, but adds, "I do not completely approve of this [division^, but at the moment I have neither the intention nor the interest in refuting it." 12 Vives was probably unhappy with the Aphthonlan topics because of their apparent inflexibility, not because of their departure from 13 the division in the Poetics. ^ Although Aphthonius* six topics do not correspond exactly with Aristotle's six, his topics are very similar to categories used in modern analyses of narrative structures, and since time and place often be­ come metonymies for atmosphere, perhaps scene (including both the physical and metaphysical grounding of the act) 1^ would be a more satisfactory topic. Clearly, in "The Induction" and "The Complaint" the physical becomes a metonymy for the metaphysical. The final exercise of Aphthonius, Description, stresses the Importance of rendering the object described as vividly as possible. By employing various figures of speech, the 4o Description "distinctly Qpresented^] to view the thing being set forth,"1-* This emphasis upon visualizing as an essential quality in descriptive passages was a major concern from the classical period1** to Sackville*s time, Richard Sherry commended the "Description rhetorical" in which "a thynge is so described that it semeth to the reader or hearer that 17 he beholdeth it as it were in doyng." ' But as Rosemund Tuve has observed, "in all this cry for putting down the very substance of life, one can never detect praise of poetry

TO on the ground of having aohieved Just that," Therefore, the Description of the particular must also relate to the universal, but it may do so with varying degrees of explicit­ ness, On the one hand, the poet may tell us Just what con­ clusions to draw from a description; on the other, he may lead his reader from the particular to the universal with some dark conceit or allegory. The explicitness or implicitness of thematic statement and the manner in which that statement is made provide one of the major distinctions between "The Complaint" and "The Induction." Beginning with the core of tales in "The Com­ plaint" and working outward, we shall see varying degrees of explicitness in the two poems. "The Complaint of Henry Duke of Buckingham" is remarkable for the amount of space devoted to matters other than the fall of Buckingham. Of course, since the poem is a complaint, a reader might expect a certain amount of generalized warnings 41 and inartificial proofs, but Sackville devotes only a little more than a third— 29 1 lines out of 777 lines— of the poem

to Buckingham*s story proper, while he devotes 290 lines to 19 generalized warnings and parallels from antiquity. How­ ever, this balance between plot and argument allows Sackville the kind of interrupted movement advocated by Aristotle: •'Now the reason why sometimes it is not desirable to make the whole narrative continuous is that the case thus expounded is hard to keep in mind,*1 20 and the progression from one set of inartificial proofs to the next in the poem parallels the progression through the successive stages of Buckingham*s story. The accumulation of concerns in the action is matched by the accumulation of historical parallels in the poem, each set of parallels being triggered by the Tale which precedes it or triggering the act which follows. Each set of parallels, then, has a scenic quality appropriate to each stage in Buck­ ingham’s story, and taken together all the parallels point up the same political-moral theme: that improper acts lead to unfortunate consequences and that what little security men can attain in this world comes from eschewing evil action and political turmoil generally. Buckingham*s story itself divides into five tales, each act being separated by a catalogue thematically appropriate to bridging between these acts. After a preliminary salutation to Sackville and an 42 order to,

Marke wel my fal, which I shal shewe belive And paynt It furth that all estates may knowe: Haue they the warning, and "be mine the woe, (lines 12-14)

Buckingham begins his tale with an account of the fate of his ancestors (15-42), Using the places of the Encomium (Genus), which help establish his ethos, Buckingham also establishes the scene in which his life played itself out. The behavior of his ancestors, as described in these stanzas, contrasts sharply with the behavior of Buckingham himself, perhaps beoause his family*s history has made him cynical about his own worth:

For noble bloud made me both prince and pier Yea pierles too, had reason purchast place, And God with giftes endowed me largely here. But what auayles his giftes where fayles his grace? (lines 15-18)

Not only is he sprung from noble blood; his maternal grand- father was Msprong of a kyngely race” (line 19). 21 But dur­ ing the dynastic struggles between the Yorkists and Lancast­ rians, the noble blood of the kingly race flowed freely, and in four stanzas (lines 15-42) Buckingham records the deaths of five of his direct ancestors. On Buckingham*s maternal side, Edmund, Duke of Somerset (maternal grandfather), died in the battle of Tewkesbury, 4 May 1471; Edmund»s father, also Duke of Somerset, died at St. Albans in 1455; and 43 Edmund’s maternal grandfather, John Beauchamp, died In 1475. Buckingham*s father, Humphrey, Earl of Stafford, was killed 23 at the battle of St. Albans, J In which his grandfather was wounded but escaped only to fall at Northhampton 10 July 24 1460. These various agents, who shared similar ends as a result of their acts, supported the Lancastrian cause, both because it was right and because they detested the Yorkists (cause). Buckingham emphasizes the intense loyalty (manner) in which his forebears supported Henry. This loyalty is sustained until death in his grandfather, Somerset,

Whose faythfull hart to Henry syxt so wrought That never he hym in weale or woe forsooke, Tyl lastly he at Tewxbury fyeld was cought Where with an axe his violent death he toke; (lines 22-25) in his father, Humphrey, Earl of Stafford,

Who ever prest dyd Henries part auaunoe. And never ceast tyl at Saynt Albones fight He lost his lyfe. . .; (lines 31-35) and his grandfather Buckingham, who

. . . lived & dyed there in his maysters ryght. (line 42)

The selfless loyalty of his forebears to the true king, Henry VI, is similar to the manner of Buckingham’s own allegiance to Richard »»In faythfull love” (6o), but also contrasts with the breakdown of the relationship between 44

the two men. Yet even that faithful love and service of his forebears is charged with a sense of futility, so that when Buckingham assumes his grandfather's title and comes upon the scene, he has just cause to sound world-weary;

. . . as it befel my lot. Like on a stage, so stept I in strayt waye, Enioying there but wofully god wot, As he that had a slender part to playe. (lines 43-46)

Against the scene of bloodletting in the dynastic struggle, Buckingham decides to cast his fate with Richard;

The duke and I fast ioyned ever since, In faythfull love, our secrete drlftes to frame; What he thought best, to me so seemde the same, My selfe not bent so much for to aspyer, As to fulfyl that greedy dukes desyre. (lines 59-63)

In this tale the "secrete driftes" lead to two acts; first, to the separation of the nephews— Edward V and his brother Richard— from the Queen's family and their allies; and, second, to Richard's proposal that they be executed. Buck­ ingham, whose cause for action was to advance Richard and 2*5 thereby to obtain some stability for the kingdom, J consents to these acts, but Buckingham as agent appears almost com­ pletely passive in this section of his story, as his comment upon their relationship (6 2-6 3 ) suggests. Richard, the other agent, dominates the next two stanzas (64-77)» which make clear what is vaguely spoken of as "secrete drlftes" and 45 "desyre" in the preceding stanza. Richard, of course, is the chief mover of the action described in this tale, and his character and manner of behavior are much more vividly- defined than Buckingham*s: his "restles minde" (64) makes him "greedy" (6 3 ), and his "thyrsting after rule” (64) prompts him to plunge rapidly from one reasonable and apparently Justifiable act (of separating the king and his brother from the Woodvilles and their allies) to one less reasonable and less just (of proposing the execution of some of his captives--76-77)* In this process what was a highly figurative "thyrsting after rule” becomes progres­ sively more literal: "he ran so headlong swyft, / With eygre thyrst of his desired draught" (71-72), until in the catalogue which follows this, thirst is rendered in all its ugly literalness. With Buckingham*s final comment upon his part in the action, Richard*s thirst gains a more concrete object:

And I most oursed caytief that 1 was, Seeing the state vnstedfast howe it stood, His chiefe complyce to bryng the same to passe, Vnhappy wretche consented to theyr blood. (lines 78-81)

In the second stage of the story or second tale, the pace of the narrative becomes more rapid (.i .je., the number of acts increases), the relationship between the agents changes, and the scene becomes bloodier, the agents* manner blinder, and their cause clearer. Stanza 25 (lines 169-175) 46 picks up and intensifies the bloodthirstiness, which was only faintly evident in the first tale:

Yet we that were so drowned in the depth Of dlepe desyre to drinke the gylteles blud, Lyke to the wulfe, with greedy lookes that lepth Into the snare, to feede on deadly foode, So we delyghted in the state we stoode, Blinded so farre In all our blynded trayne That blind we sawe not our destruction playne.

Their initial success has made Buckingham less wary, so that now he Is less diffident and Identifies himself more com­ pletely as Joint agent in the bloody acts which follow. In the first tale Buckingham revealed himself subservient to Richard’s cause but maintained a separation in the employment of pronouns. Here, flushed with success, he employs the first person plural far more often than he indicates his 26 separateness from Richard by using singular pronouns. Even when he does separate himself from Richard, he does so not to indicate independence, but to show the complementary nature of the agents:

He crowned king, and I his chyefest Pyer. (line 189) Thus hauing wonne our long desired pray, To make him king that he might make me chiefe, Downthrow we strayt his sellie nephewes twaye. (lines 190-192) Slth he was king, and I chiefe stroke did beare. (line 195)

With the success of his plot to gain power (cause), Richard *7 has carried Buckingham into himself, and Buckingham, like Richard in Tale I, now thirsts for guiltless blood in the manner of the wolf. Stanzas 26 through 28 hurriedly sweep through the events which bring Richard and Buckingham to the pinnacle of their success. In less than three stanzas, Sackville presents the events leading to Richard's crowning and the fall of his nephews; however, in treating these events Sackville omits the shrewd machinations which Hichard and Buckingham employed in destroying Hastings and in deposing Edward V. While the acts described in these stanzas adequately Indicate Bucking­ ham's guilt, they are far more palatable than his hypocritical speeches found in the sources, particularly that speech de­ livered at the Guildhall in which he repeated Dr. Shaw's 27 assertions that the prinoes were bastards. Buckingham's role, it seems, is black enough without the blatant deceits provided by the sources. But if the major acts against the guiltless are much reduced in this tale, the manner in which they are carried out is made quite clear, and the manner of each aot foreshadows the fate of Buckingham himself. Lords Rivers and Gray, Sir Thomas Vaughan, and Sir Richard Hault are quickly dispatched:

Fower wurthy knyghtes we headed at Pomfret Gylteles (God wote) withouten lawe or doome, (lines 178-179) 48 and • . • Lord Hastinges when he feared least, Dispiteously was murdred and opprest. (lines 181-182)

After these executions Fortune seems to smile upon Bucking­ ham and Richards

And Fortune faryng as she were at becke Layed in our lap the rule of all the realme. (lines 185-186)

But Fortune here is the temptress inducing in them a false sense of security, for though the following stanza suggests they have achieved their principal purposes, it traces the rise and fall of individuals upon Fortune*s wheel:

Thus hauing wonne our long desired pray, To make him king that he might make me chiefe, Downthrow we strayt his sellle nephewes twaye. From princes pompe, to woful prisoners lyfes In hope that nowe stynt was all furder stryfe. Sith he was king, and I chiefe stroke did beare Who ioyed but we, yet who more cause to feare? (lines 190-196)

As the first three lines trace the rise of Richard and Buck­ ingham and indicate the final act by which that rise is facilitated, the fourth line of the stanza— in its emphatic contrast between the princes* past and present condition— prepares the reader for a turn. With their initial goals (pauses) obtained, Buckingham and Richard identify a new cause, i.e., stability (19^), with which they will be able to retain their positions, but after line 195 (recapitulat­ 49 ing line 191) another balanced line indicates the precarious­ ness of their position. The next stanza quickly recapitulates the action of the preceding stanzas, but as becomes apparent, Buckingham and Richard, in attaining their goal through unjust and violent acts, have created a new scene in which their acts become agents which press upon them. The chief quality of their victims— that they are Mgylteles” (170, 179t 197)--is naturally inverted in them, and instead of behaving with bold assurance, their characteristic manner up to this point, they quake before imagined avengers:

Nowe doubting state, nowe dreading losse of life, In feare of wrecke at euery blast of wynde, Now start in dreames through dread of murdrers knyfe, As though euen then revengement were assynde. With restles thought so is the guylty minde Turmoyled, and never feeleth ease or stay, But lives in feare of that which folowes aye. (lines 204-210)

The effect of guilt upon the dreams was (and is) a psycho­ logical commonplace, and the sources (and later Shakespeare) used the dream of Richard before the battle at Bosworth to intensify his dread. In effect, the dream is nothing but the workings of a guilty conscience, as Polydore Vergil Indicated:

But (I beleve) yt was no dreame, but a oon- scyence guiltie of haynous offences, a con- scyence (I say) so much the more grevous as thoffences wer more great, which, thowght at none other time, yeat in the last day of owr 50 lyfe ys woont to represent to us the memory of our sinnes commyttyd, and withall to shew unto us the paynes Immynent for the same, that, being uppon good cause penytent at that instant for our evell led lyfe, we may be 2fl oompellyd to go hence in heavyness of hart. 0

Although the falls of Buckingham and of Richard— later— do not follow their dreams immediately, they are implicit in the inevitability which led from an apparently innocuous act, the separation of the king from his mother*s family, to a more drastic act, the proposed execution of the four knights in Tale I and the more violent acts of Tale II. In order to secure their power, which was the cause of their acts, the agents are forced inexorably to greater and greater violence against nature and morality; and in steeping them­ selves in guiltless blood, they become less and less secure because of their guilt and fear prompted by that guilt. This alteration of their fortunes becomes apparent in Tale III, In which Buckingham comments on the new role of Fortune;

Loe s£e the fine, when once it felt the whele Of slipper Fortune, stay it mought no stowne. The wheele whurles vp, but strayt it whurleth downe. (lines 250-252)

Buckingham and Richard have reached the apex of power and have attained all those ends which prompted their acts In the earlier tales, yet the extended simile in the first two stanzas of this section indicates a radical change in the 51 manner of the agents:

Like to the Dere that stryken with the dart, Withdrawes him selfe Into some secrete place, And feeling green the wound about his hart. Startles with panges tyl he fall on the grasse, And In great feare lyes gasping there a space, Furth braying sighes as though eche pang had brought The present death which he doeth dread so oft: So we diepe wounded with the bluddy thought, And gnawing wurme that grieved our conscience so. Never tooke ease, but as our hart furth brought The strayned syghes in wytnes of our woe, Such resties cares our fault did well beknowe: Wherewith of our deserved fall the feares In every place rang death within our eares. (lines 232-21±5)

While they had thirsted for blood like a wolf in the second tale, they now flee like the deer from their guilty consciences, which have become a part of the scene. With guilt pervading the soene. even the great power of Richard and Buckingham be­ comes "as yll grayne. . .never well ykept” (2^6). By em­ ploying telling alliteration, Buckingham emphasizes the per­ version wrought through their usurpation: "Wyl was wysedome, our lust for lawe dyd stand” (255). The guilt, however, has produced in Richard effects slightly different from those produced in Buckingham. Richard seeks security in overawing his subjects, but his tyranny produces in his subjects only deceit and “A secrete hate that hopeth for a daye" (266). Significantly, as Buckingham describes Richard's tyranny, he detaches himself from Richard:

For hauyng rule and riches in our hand, 52 Who durst gaynsay the thing that we averde? Wyl was wysedome, our lust for lawe dyd stand, In sorte so straunge, that who was not afeard When he the sound hut of kyng Bychard heard? So hatefull waxt the hearyng of his name, That you may deeme the residewe by the same. (lines 253-259)

In the possession of riches and power, Buckingham identifies himself with Richard, but once that power begins to rouse 2Q hatred, it is Richard alone who is the agent. 7 This split between the agents becomes a dominant quality in Tale IV. In the fourth tale of his story (lines 330-427), Buck­ ingham, recognizing Richard*s tyranny, withdraws himself from Richard*s cause and sees him less sympathetically!

So cruell seemde this Rychard thyrd to me, That loe my selfe now loathde his crueltee (lines 335-336) and his pronominal use in the rest of this tale maintains his separation from Richard.^® As the agents become separated, so naturally their acts separate, but while the acts of the two agents in Tales I and II were complementary even when separate, the two men now come to work at cross-purposes. One’s behavior prompts a counter response in the other. Richard's behavior now is shown to be obviously tyran­ nical. While Tale III stated that Richard had attempted to keep his subjects in awe by his methods, he now takes the 53 step which turns Buckingham full against him:

For when alas, I saw the Tyrant kyng Content not only from his nephewes twayne To ryve worldes blysse, but also al worldes beyng, Saunce earthly SYl t ycausing both be slayne, My hart agrlefde31 that such a wretche should raygne, Whose bluddy brest so salvaged out of kynde, That Phalaris had never so bluddy a minde. (lines 337-3^3 )

Richard’s act (the execution of the princes) and his manner (indicated by the epithets "Tyrant” and "bluddy" and the comparison in the last two lines of the stanza^) become the cause of Buckingham’s disaffection and lamentations which are traced out in the next three stanzas. Buckingham, in the next stanza, indicates how his manner changes and the cause of that change:

Ne could I brooke him once wythin my brest, But wyth the thought my teeth would gnashe wythal: For though I earst wer his by swome behest. Yet when I sawe mlschiefe on mischiefe fall, So diepe in blud, to murder prynce and all, Ay then thought I, alas, and wealaway. . . . (lines 3^ - 3^9 )

Buckingham’s tearful contemplation of the princes’ fate, of course, contrasts his sensitive reaction (manner) to Richard’s brutal manner and leads him to hate and distrust Richard. Richard, ever more steeped in blood and guilt, finally comes to realize "the treason he had wrought / To God and man" (367-368), and this realization becomes the cause which makes Richard distrust everyone, even Buckingham, 54 "whoes death all meanes he myght, / He sought to wurke by malice and by might” (370-371)• Bichard’s attitude toward Buckingham now provides the latter with another motive for despising his former ally. Recognizing that Richard “With enuyous hart” seeks his "honour to deface" (373). Buckingham finds another, more heavenly cause for his own action:

If ever sprang within me sparke of grace, Must nedes abhorre him and his hatefull race: Now more and more gan33 cast me out of grace. (lines 376-378)

Although Buckingham asserts that Richard’s execution of the princes was the cause which led him to detest Richard, he now here Juxtaposes that "sparke of [divine]] grace" which he possesses with that more mundane grace which Richard with­ draws from him, forcing him to make a choice:

Which sodayne chaunge, when I by secrete chaunce Had well perceyved by proofs of enuious frowne, And sawe the lot that did me to aduaunce Hym to a kyng that sought to cast me downe, To late it was to linger any stowne: Syth present choyse lay cast before myne iye, To wurke his death or I my selfe to dye. And as the knyght in fyeld among his foes, Beset wyth swurdes, must slaye or there be slayne: So I alas lapt in a thousand woes, Beholding death on every syde so playne, I rather chose by sum slye secrete trayne To wurke his death, and I to lyve thereby, Than he to lyve, and I of force to dye. (lines 379-392)

Richard’s actions and manner reveal his purpose to Buckingham, 55 and they become the causes which direct Buckingham to a new purpose (385* 391-392) to thwart Richard*s plans. In lines 387-388 Buckingham recognizes the irony of the rewards he can expect from Richard, but in the second stanza, which repeats and embellishes the choice asserted in the last two lines of the first, Buckingham uses an extended simile to suggest his situation (scene). Although he sees himself as a knight oppressed in battle who must fight to preserve his life, Buckingham*s manner of action is not so heroic as the scene would suggest. Instead of standing for the fight, he seeks "sum slye secrete trayne” to achieve his purpose. Yet in the next stanza, Buckingham, to forestall his audience*s improper opinion, recapitulates the causes which have led him to take drastic action:

. . . I in parte agryeved at his disdayne, In part to wreke the dolefull death of those Two tender babes, his sillye nephewes twayne, By him alas oommaunded to be slayne. . . . (lines 39^-397)

Buckingham retires to Brecknock, where he plots against Richard, but he says nothing of the others involved in the plot, only that the overthrow of Richard "seemd to all so much desyerd a thyng" (404). As he has reduced the causes for his rebellion to two, his wish to avenge the death of the princes and to forestall Richard’s plot against himself, instead of mentioning his envy of Richard^34 and his claims to 35 the Hereford lands which Richard rebuked, so here he would 56 seem to indicate that he is operating almost alone. At Brecknock, Buckingham, revitalized as the plot appears to be approved by the nameless others, places too much confi­ dence in his position, and Fortune, the scenic agent, works her evil will upon him:

For while I nowe had Fortune at my becke Mistrusting I no earthly thing at all, Vnwares alas, least looking for a cheoke, She mated me in turning of a ball: When least I fearde, then nerest was my fall, And when whole hoastes wer prest to stroy my foen. She chaunged her chere, and left me post alone. (lines 407-413)

Buckingham's manner is prompted by the relationship between the agents in this stanza: in the first three lines Bucking­ ham appears to command Fortune, but he, therefore, is unaware of his dangerously precarious position, which is realized as Fortune mates him and sends him to defeat. However, the cause of Buckingham's defeat is not simply his betrayal by Fortune. As line 412 indicates, "whole hoastes" were involved in this 37 sudden turn. The next stanza explains this turn of events more precisely. Buckingham, acting openly, raises an army to oppose Hichard, but the army deserts him for no apparent 38 cause. Tale V (495-539) traces Buckingham's actions by which he attempts to escape the destruction foreordained by the desertion of his army. Although Fortune has played a crucial role as a scenlc-causative agent. Buckingham's apostrophe, which immediately precedes the return to his own story, 57 shifts the responsibility to the ”fyckle fayth of commontye alone” (**90). This fickleness of the common people constitutes the dominant fact in the scene which lies behind the acts in this part of Buckingham’s story, for this betrayal by the army has been foreshadowed by Buckingham’s desertion of Richard and, in turn, foreshadows Banaster’s betrayal of Buckingham. Deserted by his army, Buckingham wanders in the forest lamenting his ’’hateful hap” (502). In describing his condi­ tion and manner. Buckingham devotes a full stanza to an extended comparison of his own condition to that of a turtle­ dove:

And as the Turtle that hath lost her make, Whom grypyng sorowe doth so sore attaynt, With dolefull voyce and sound whych she doth make Mourning her losse, fylles all the grove wyth playnt, So I alas forsaken, and forfaynt, With resties foote the wud rome vp and downe, Which of my dole al shyvering doth resowne. (lines 505-511)

While this stanza provides a measure of Buckingham’s passion— the whole forest responds with sympathetic vibrations to his one-note lament— it provides a contrast to the more hopeful direction taken in the next two stanzas, wherein Buckingham, thinking that his benevolence to Humphrey Banaster will be sufficient cause for service at this desperate hour, seeks succor from the man he has favored In the past. Yet Banaster’s behavior provides Just one more illustration of the fickleness of the commons, for he betrays Buckingham 58 to Richards

. . . for his rewarde A thousand poundes, and farther be prefarde, His truthe so turnde to treason, all distaynde That fayth quyte fled, and I by trust was traynde,-'-^ (lines 529-532)

With his delivery into the hands of John Mitton, Buckingham's career comes swiftly and abruptly to an end with his beheading at Salisbury. Quite Justly, his dispatch is effected in the same manner in which he and Richard had executed their first victimst "Withouten doome" (539)• Throughout this story, Sackville devotes more space to scene and manner than to acts. While Sackville accounts for most of the major events in the history of Buckingham's Jointure with Richard, he devotes less than five full stanzas to acts in which his hero-agent sins against the rightful ruler, Edward V, and these five stanzas appear in the first two tales of Buckingham's story. In the remainder of his story, Buckingham is a highly interested but relatively pas­ sive observer of the more dynamic Richard (Tales I and III), or an unsuccessful avenger of wrongs (Tale IV), or a victim of other men's failings (Tale V). Even with the more force­ ful Richard, more space is devoted to the manner of his acts than to the acts themselves. The acts thus almost become a number of pegs upon which Sackville can drape commentary about scene and manner. Scene and manner in these tales bear most of the weight 59 40 of the story's argument. The soene remains constant in actuality, while its appearance becomes progressively more gloomy. The presence of Fortune in the background of the tales reminds the audience of the constant inconstancy of man; from Buckingham's opening remarks to Sackville, we are warned against this enchantress;

Beholde he me, and by my death bewares Whom flattering Fortune falsely so begilde That loe she slewe, where earst ful smooth she smylde. (lines 5-7 )

Only in the second tale does Fortune appear in her more attractive guises

And Fortune faryng as she were at becke Layed in our lap the rule of all the realme. (lines 185-186)

But the conjunction makes clear that this is only apparent beneficence. She is described in her more characteristic role in Tales III and IV;

Loe see the fine, when once it felt the whele Of slipper Fortune, stay it mought no stowne, The wheele whurles vp, but strayt it whurleth downe. (lines 250-252) For such is Fortune when she lyst to frowne. Who seemes most sure, him soonest whurles she down. (lines 419-420)

Although in Tale V Buckingham places the blame for his fall upon the inconstancy of men, he begins his search for the cause of his fall with an apostrophe to "Vnfrendly Fortune" (484). 6o

If Fortune is a constant of the scenes, the acts and manner of the characters intensify the darkness of these scenes. While the acts produce results which might suggest a rise (at least through Tale III) to greater security, these acts foredoom the two men and lead inevitably to the tragic conclusion of Buckingham*s life. The significance of these acts is distilled into a word (or words) which becomes a motif of the scene and prompts an appropriate ohange in the charac­ ters* manner, usually epitomized in a simile in the following tale. Richard*s thirst for power in Tale I is emphasized by the traduotio on thirst (64, 72) and becomes a thirst for blood (traduotio: 81, 83. 84, 84); and this blood lust is realized most concretely in the wolf simile which describes the manner of the two men at the beginning of the second tale (169-175)• But blood leads inevitably to guilt (traduotio: 170, 179. 197. 208), and this guilt, becoming part of the scene, also becomes the cause for the manner revealed in the deer simile at the beginning of Tale III (232-245). From guilt it is but a short step to fear and dread which dominate Tale III and lead to Buckingham* s defiance of Richard. However, the simile of the knight valiantly fight­ ing his foes in the field (386-389) is undercut by Bucking­ ham’s ’’secrete trayne" (390). And the series of treasonous acts in Tale IV leads to Buckingham's progressive isolation, this isolation epitomized in the turtledove simile of Tale 61 V (505-511). The realizations of scene in abstractions, however concrete the metonymies may make Fortune, blood, guilt, fear, and betrayal, and the indications of manner through similes emphasize the universality of the tragic pattern traced in Buckingham’s story. Around and between the tales of “The Complaint” Sackville uses a number of argumentative structures to demonstrate the dangers of political instability in particular and the muta­ bility of the world in general. The words with which Buck­ ingham greets the narrator and his final address, telling Sackville to,

Byd kynges, byd kesars, by all states beware, And tell them this from me that tryed it true. Who reckles rules, right soone may hap to rue, (lines 775-777) indicate that the whole of his narrative is an expanded martyrla or ’’dissuading” ohrela based upon his own experience. The final forty-three lines of the poem dwell upon the in­ stability of man’s life when he allows himself to be en­ snared by Fortune. Using the topics of the Encomium, Buck­ ingham demonstrates that neither Genus (birth and blood) nor Achievements of spirit and body (’’And kind with corage so my corps had blent”— 767) nor fortune (rule, riches, title) avail anything once man subjects himself to Fortune. In fact, he claims it is even safer for those who have never 62

tasted greatness:

For hard mishaps that happen vnto such, Whoes wretched state earst neuer fell no chaunge, Agryue them not in any part so much, As theyr distres to whome it is so straunge, That all theyr lyues nay passed pleasures raunge: Theyr sodayne wo that ay wield welth at will, Algates their hartes more pearcingly must thril. (lines 757-763)

The universal moral is apparently to be '’lowly wise" or if one cannot be "lowly,” at least he should beware Fortune in all her guises. In the catalogues of exempla which he uses to punctuate his story, Buckingham has another device for directing the reader’s attention to the universal. While Buckingham’s own story had a particular location in English history, the cata­ logues demonstrate the repetitive nature of the historical and tragic pattern. Each of these catalogues functions as an active Chrela would, for each set contains one or more analogous examples which demonstrate the truth of a senten­ tious proposition or propositions, but these propositions are so general that they might as easily be classified as Proverbs. Since the sententious statements themselves contain the key words or traductlos upon the key words which helped to define the scene in the preceding tale, the bonds between tale and catalogue are triple: first, the actions described in the exempla are analogous to those described in the tales: secondly, the sententla comments 63 upon both the tales and the exempla; and, finally, the scenic word informs both the tales and the exempla. There is one major difference between most of the exempla and the tales to which they are attached: while the tales cannot complete the action, the exempla usually do proceed to the conclusion of the action. Thus, at the end of the first tale, Bucking­ ham has only consented to blood, but following a sententla,

Ye Kinges and Piers that swim in worldly good, In seekyng blud the end aduert you playne, And see if bloud ey aske not blud agayne, (lines 82-8^) he presents a series of figures whose bloodiness led to their own downfall: Cyrus, Cambises, Brutus, Cassius, and Bessus. Only Alexander is spared death, but his intense regret for his rash slaying of his friend Clitus makes his life worse than death:

His bluddy handes him selfe could not abyde, But fully bent with famine to have dyed; The wurthy prynce deemed in his regarde, That death for death could be but iust rewards. (lines 165-168)

Each figure who falls merits but another sententious remark: from the fate of Cyrus, whose deeds were "bloudy" (8?), Buckingham again points to the universal fact of tragedy:

Loe marke the fine that did this prynce befall: Marke not this one, but marke the ende of all. (lines 97-9 8 ) 6k And from the fall of Cambises, whose murderous activities were rewarded with "His body gored" (10^):

So lust is God in al his dreadfull doomes. (line 105)

And from the fall of "Bluddy Brutus" (106) and Cassiusj

A myrrour let him be vnto you all That murderers be, of murder to your meede: For murder crieth out vengeance on your seede. (lines 110-112)

And upon Bessus, who "With bluddy handes bereft his maysters life" (115):

Beholde in him the lust deserued fall, That euer hath, and shall betide them all (lines 118-119)

Alexander's remorse at having shed "gylteles blud" (159) provides a transition into the next tale in which the guilt produced by bloodletting becomes dominant. In the same way, the judge's acquittal of the sons of Titus Clelius in the second catalogue (211-231) is based upon his knowledge that the guilty do not sleep easy and leads to the sententious ob­ servation which indicates that the guilty must "lead a lyef continually in feare" (231). The third catalogue, treating Dionlsius, Phereus, Nero, Phalaris, Caligula, and Domitian (267-329), traces the fear prompted by tyrants with a number of "pointing" lines but returns to the fourth tale by 65 relating tyranny to rebellion*

So best in vs the staye of such a state May best appeare to hang on overthrowe, And better teache Tyrantes deserved hate Than any Tyrantes death tofore or late. (lines 331-33*0

The fourth and final catalogue treats the betrayal of great men by their countries: both Gamillus (428-441) and Scipio (442-462) were betrayed by the "cruell folke. . . [|of] false inconstancye*’ (439-44-0) and "vnstable commontye" (444) of Rome, "Mllciades" (463-476) by the Athenians, and Hannibal (477-483) by the CarthagenIans, Just as Buckingham was betrayed by his army of Welshmen. The rhetorical questions in which Buckingham couches the sententia at the beginning and end of the fourth catalogue, provide one means for variety in the pattern of inartificial proofs. Buckingham also varies the way in which he introduces the story of the characters. He may address his audience as in, "Beholde Camillus" (435), or he may apostrophize the hero as in, "And thou Scipio" (442). Similarly, the lengths of the catalogues varies, though the second, treating the sons of Titus Clelius in three stanzas, is the only one notable for its brevity. The number of lines devoted to the particu­ lar characters also may vary; although most of the figures merit about two stanzas, Alexander (naturally) deserves six, while Nero, Phalaris, Caligula, Domitian, "and all / The cruell route. . ." (326-32?) are lumped into two and a half lines. 66

Yet with all these varyings the catalogues pose two problems of focus for Buckingham and his audience. On the one hand, the case of a figure in the catalogue, either because of the length or vividness of the treatment, may become more significant than Buckingham’s own case. This clearly happens in the treatment of Cyrus, whose end at the hand of Tomyrls is described with a vividness lacking in any of the descriptions of actions within Buckingham*s own story:

His head dismembred from his mangled corps, Her selfe she cast into a vessell fraught With clottered bloud of them that felt her force. And with these wordes a lust reward she taught: Drynke nowe thy fyll of thy desyred draught,^1 (lines 92-96)

Such vividness is even more distracting in the much longer description of Alexander*s actions after he has slain his friend Clitus:

The launced spear he writhes out of the wound, From which the purple blud spins on his face: His heynous gylt when he returned found, He throwes him selfe vpon the corpes alas. And in his armes howe ofte doth he imbrace His murdred frende? and kyssyng him in vayne, Furth flowe the fluds of salte repentant rayne. (lines HH-14-7)

On the other hand, while the catalogues can never become ex­ haustive, they may easily become exhausting. In the fourth catalogue, Buckingham’s apologetic comments reveal his own 67 awareness of this. After devoting three stanzas to Dionisius, Buckingham notes the sufficiency of the illustration but feels impelled to go on:

This might suffise to represent the fine Of Tyrantes force, theyr feares, and theyr vnrest, But heare this one. . . , (lines 288-290) and go on he does, for five more stanzas on the life and death of Phereus. These two exempla would seem to be enough, even for Buckingham;

li/hat should I more nowe seeke to say in this? Or one Iote farder linger furth my tale? (lines 323-324)

Buckingham, however, manages to mention Nero, Phalaris, Caligula, and Domitian before he leaves off. (In this catalogue, one suspects that Buckingham may be looking over his shoulder for the approach of Chaucer*s Knight.) Certainly the catalogues and other generalizations within "The Complaint" serve a clear logical function which all readers may appreciate, but the length of them and the force with which they are hammered home make them far less "persuasive" to a modern reader than they would have been to a Tudor reader. In the twenty-eight stanzas (540-735) between the end of Buckingham*s story of his earthly misfortunes and his final warning to his audience, Sackville presents Bucking- 68 ham's curse upon Banaster, descriptions of Buckingham's suffering, and a rather strange interlude describing the peacefulness of night, but since these stanzas are primarily evocative of mood, they will be discussed in the later chapters, "The Induction" is at once simpler and more complex than "The Complaint," simpler because the preacher Bucking­ ham has not yet appeared and therefore the narrative lacks the regular punctuation that speaker supplies, more complex because the didactic impulse lies behind the poem itself but expresses itself more subtly through a mild form of 42 allegory. Since this poem provides the larger framework 43 for a series of complaints, J its purpose is chiefly preparatory, and the experience of the Narrator can at once be particular and present a much broader statement about human life. In developing the poem, Sackville relied upon a great number of earlier poets, and verbal 44 echoes abound in the poem. However, two sources are most important in shaping the narrative of the poem. Of course, Virgil's description of the descent of Aeneas into kc Hades, and more often Gavin Douglas* translation, J provides a model for Sackville's own descent into the underworld, and Sackville follows that model fairly closely. When he does depart from the classical model, he does so under the influ­ ence of medieval, particularly dream vision, allegorical literature. In Its narrative movement the poem follows Virgil closely after the first ten stanzas. The preliminary de­ scriptions of winter and the heavens lead the Narrator to quite logical conclusions about the conditions of the world in general, and those conclusions lead him to wish that he might see the effects of mutability upon princes as well as upon the earth and heavens. As though by dream magic, a guide appears— appropriately the guide Is Sorrow— and after identifying herself and preparing the Narrator for the journey, leads him into the pit where his wish may be ful­ filled. Yet the journey itself is not so significant as the scenes encountered in the journey, for the Narrator Is more an observer and a descrlber of scenes and actions than a performer of acts. In the descriptions or fables with which "The Induction" opens, Sackville obtains an enargela rarely found in the tales of Buckingham. Although Sackville draws upon topics wholly conventional in describing the approach of winter, he makes that description vivid and obtains the fullness of de- 1+6 scription advocated by Aphthonius by multiplying details which Indicate action and the manner of the action and by standing the idealized medieval landscape on its head. This landscape, seen with almost universal regularity in the dream visions and other poems describing nature, is described by 70

Ernst Curtius:

Its minimum ingredients comprise a tree (or several trees), a meadow, and a spring or brook. Birdsong and flowers may be added. The most elaborate examples also add a breeze. ^

Although Sackville forgets the waters, there is a more im­ portant contrast between the usual descriptions of nature and Sackville's. Sackville no doubt knew Chaucer's unusual winter dating of the vision in The House of Fame, but he may also have been thinking of another famous introduction employing landscape loci, that in the "General Prologue" Canterbury Tales, when he composed the descrip­ tion of winter. Certainly, the striking similarities be­ tween the descriptions in the matter, in the arrangement, liq and even in the diction seem more than coincidental. 7 The similarities between the occasions behind the descriptions are also striking. Chaucer and his company are beginning a pilgrimage which should promote a regeneration, as his land­ scape (with the showers and winds of April revitalizing nature and the flowers and birds) appropriately demonstrates. The Narrator of "The Induction," though he does not realize It yet, is also preparing for a pilgrimage, but a pilgrimage of quite another kind. He will offer little hope of regenera­ tion; the best he can offer is a kind of Stoic acquiescence in an uncertain world, and his landscape emphasizes that uncertainty. 71 Sackville's first stanza follows the descriptive pattern of Chaucer*s first four lines:

Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote The droghte of March hath perced to the roote, And bathed every veyne in swlch licour Of which vertu engendred is the flour.

Instead of April approaching, Sackville describes the on­ slaught of "the wrathfull winter. . ./ With blustring blastes. , , ." It is not the "droghte of March" which is pierced but rather the "tender green," nor are natural objects "bathed" and "engendred" by the changing season; instead, they are "ybared," "rent," "overthrowen,« "tome," and "downblowen." The second stanza follows, in part, lines 5 - H of Chaucer's "General Prologue":

Whan Zephirus eek with his sweete breeth Inspired hath in every holt and heeth The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne Hath in the Ram his halve course yronne, And smale foweles maken melodye. That slepen al the nyghte with open ye (So pricketh hem nature in his corages), . . ,

Here the "sweete breeth" of the west wind aids the April showers in reviving nature, but in "The Induction" the harsh north winds ("Boreas blastes") aid "wrathfull winter" and old Satumus, associated with cold and melancholy by astrologers, in destroying the "soot freshe flowers (wher- with the sommers queen / Had clad the earth). . ." (10-11). 72

The "small fowles" of each description react appropriately to the changing season. Chaucer's birds cheerfully sing and behave so as to help in the process of regeneration. Sackville's birds lament the winter's coming and the "sommer past" and are flocking, perhaps in preparing to flee to a more hospitable climate. Chaucer, in all the details of his description, depicts a healthy and harmonious world, while Sackville's scene suggests that all is violence, discord, and decay. And if the allegorical significance of the description is not clear to the reader, the Narrator makes it clear in the third stanza and again in the eighth;

Eohe thing {me thought) with weping eye me tolde The cruell season, bidding me withholde My selfe within, for I was gotten out Into the fieldes where as I walkte about. (lines 18-21) It taught me wel all earthly thinges be borne To dye the death, for nought long time may last. The sommers beauty yeeldes to winters blast. (lines 5^-56)

The multiplication of acts and agents which helps make the Description of winter vivid produces a similar effect in the chronograph1a describing the coming of night. Night overcomes day, Venus employs Hermes to bear a message to Mars, while embarrassed Virgo lies down with Thetis; meanwhile Sagitarius chases Scorpio, and Virgo (revived) chases the Bear. The action slows when Phaeton, his father, and Erythius retire for the night as Cynthia takes "her brothers place," 73 but the slowing prepares for the three stanzas in which the Narrator presents the epimythia to those scenic Pables. In the Descriptions with a Virgllian background, Sackville follows the Roman poet most faithfully (though he is still heavily indebted to Douglas)-*0 in his treatment of the Hell mouth and the passing into Hell itself. In the two stanzas describing the entrance to Hell, Sackville details the sub­ limity of his source, with a good deal of aid from Douglas. Stanzas 30 and 31 reveal his great debt to the Scots

An hydeous hole al vaste, withouten shape, Of endles depth, orewhelmde with ragged stone, Wyth ougly mouth, and grisly Iawes doth gape, And to our sight confounds it selfe in one. Here entred we, and yeding forth, anone An horrible lothly lake we might disceme As blacke as pitche, that cleped is Aueme. A deadly gulfe where nought but rubbishe growes, With fowle blacke swelth in thickned lumpes that lyes, Which vp in the ayer such stinking vapors throwes That ouer there, may flye no fowle but dyes, Choakt with the pestilent sauours that aryse. (lines 20^-215)

Douglas renders the Latin sources

Thar stude a dirk and profound cave fast by, A hidduus hoill, deip gapand and grisly, All ful of cragis and of thir sharp flynt stanys Quhilk was weil""cCekkit and closit for the nanys With a fowle layk, als blak as ony craw, And skuggis dym of a ful dern wod schow, Abufe the quhilk na fowle may fie but skath. Exalationys or vapouris blak and laith Furth of that dedly golf thrawls in the air, Sik wyls na byrd may thiddlr make repairs,. Quharfor Grekis Avemus clepis this sted.^1 74 Both the Scottish and the English texts suggest the same vague horrors of the hellish landscape as Virgil’s original evokes. In the passage into Hades, Sackville again relies heavily upon the Latin original with some verbal echoes of Douglas in the descriptions of Charon and Cerberus:

Douglas: Thir ryveris and thir wateris kepit war By ane Charon, a grisly f e r r y a r . 5 2 Sackville: Where grisly Charon at theyr fixed tide Stil ferreies ghostes vnto the farder side. (lines 482-483) Douglas: Cerberus, the hydduus hund, that regioun Fordynnys, barkand with thre mowthls sown, Onmesurablll in his cave quhar he lay.53 Sackville: Blacke Cerberus the hydeous hound of hell, With bristles reard, and with a thre mouthed Iawe, Foredinning the ayer with his horrible yel. Out of the diepe darke cave where he did dwell. (lines 499-502)54

Although Charon (recognizing the goddess) does not challenge Sorrow and her companion as Charon challenges the Sybil and Aeneas in Virgil, his launch is imperiled by the mortal’s presence, for here, as in the Aeneid,

. . . with the vnwonted weyght, the rustye keele Began to cracke as if the same should slnke. (lines 492-493)

Similarly, their first perceptions after passing Cerberus are of the lamenting populace of the Wailing Fields (505-518) which prepare them for the encounter with Buckingham, as they had prepared Aeneas for the encounter with Dido. In other details of the descent into Hades, Sackville alters and expands the original. This is particularly true in his treatment of the prosopopoeia which stand just beyond the portal of Hell. In describing these figures, Sackville both changes the Virgilian order in which they appear and enlarges them radically, thus giving over a third of his poem to these allegorical figures. Sackville’s manuscript reveals that he had initially followed Virgil’s order but later changed it before publication:

Manuscript Order Printed Order 1 . Remorse 1 . Remors e 2 . Revenge 2 . Dread 3. Malady 3. Revenge Old Age k. Miserie (Poverty) 5. Dread 5. Greedy Care (Labor) 6 . Famine 6 . Sleep 7. Death 7. Old Age 8 . Poverty 8 . Malady 9. Labor 9. Famine 1 0 . Sleep 1 0 . Death 1 1 . War 1 1 . War

The figures in Virgil (and in the manuscript) represent the curses with which man is beset, but Virgil gives each figure little more than a telling epithet, while Sackville makes each figure represent and demonstrate one of these afflic­ tions of mankind. Only Sleep appears beneficial, but she is so only because in sleep we are unaware of the cruel workings of Fortune. Of the descriptions of these eleven figures, the first three— those of Remorse, Dread, and Revenge— are most sig- 76 nifieant in relation to "The Complaint1' of Buckingham. Some of the behavior will be echoed by Buckingham in describing the progress of his emotions. The behavior of Remorse and Dread is remarkably like the behavior of Buckingham and Richard once guilt begins to work on them:

Her [Remorse1 s1| iyes vnstedfast rolling here and there, Whurld on eche place, as place that vengeaunce brought, So was her minde continually in feare, Tossed and tormented with the tedious thought Of those detested crymes which she had wrought:

Next sawe we Dread al tremblyng how he shooke, With foote vncertayne profered here and there: Benumde of speache, and with a gastly looke Searcht euery place al pale and dead for feare, His cap borne vp with staring of his heare, Stoynde and amazde at his owne shade for dreed. And fearing greater daungers than was nede. ("The Induction," lines 225-229, 232-238)

At the end of the second tale Buckingham and Richard are be­ having and reacting in much the same manner:

These heauy burdens pressed vs vpon, Tormenting vs so by our selues alone, Much like the felon that pursued by night, Startes at eche bushe as his foe were in sight. Nowe doubting state, nowe dreading losse of life, In feare of wrecke at euery blast of wynde, Now start in dreames through dread of murdrers knyfe, As though euen then revengement were assynde. With restles thought so is the guylty minde Turmoyled, and never feeleth ease or stay, But lives in feare of that which folowes aye. ("The Complaint," lines 200-210)

Similarly, Buckingham, when moving toward rebellion in Tale 77 IV, gnashes his teeth just as Revenge does ("The Induction," line 2*K); "The Complaint," line 3^5) and resolves to kill or be killed much as Revenge does:

. . . nowe determines she, To dye by death, or vengde by death to be. ("The Induction," lines 2^-2^f5)

I rather chose by stua slye secrete trayne To wurke his death, and I to lyve thereby, Than he to lyve, and I of force to dye. ("The Complaint," lines 390-392)

Thus the first three figures within the portal of Hades pro­ vide some foreshadowing for the particular story of Bucking­ ham. Sackville, however, does not limit this foreshadowing to the abstractions; the historical figures seen upon the 55 shield of War also serve as inartificial proofs which indicate the inevitable end of man. Treating many of the more notable men of the past, Sackville demonstrates how "Deadly debate, al ful of snaky heare" ("The Induction," line 4oi) has affected the course of ancient heroes, includ­ ing Darius, Alexander, Hannibal, Paulus, Sclpio, Pompey, Caesar, Sulla, Marius, Cyrus, and Xerxes. Not only have heroes been destroyed; great cities have been destroyed, too. Sackville mentions the destruction of Thebes and Tyre, but devotes the last six stanzas of the description to the fall of Troy, which would have a particularly emphatic significance to any historically-minded Tudor. 78 This description of War’s shield enables Sackville to focus down from the more general observations about the fate of men in all conditions to a more particular statement about the political effects of Fortune and thus helps to prepare the reader for the various complaints within his projected «Mirror” directed to Magistrates.^ Although the descriptions of Sorrow and Buckingham aid in establishing their ethos, these descriptions also serve an argumentative function, for their condition points to man’s inevitable end. The similarities between the introduc­ tions of the two figures are notable: both are clad in black, both cry and sigh, both tear their hair and wring their hands. Both are, in fact, conventional figures of lament literature, but the convention also becomes a proof for Sackville’s thesis. While ’’The Induction” differs from ”The Complaint” in that it does not present a completed action, it differs in two other Important respects. First, there is little moral­ izing in "The Induction” as compared to Buckingham’s repeated directing of our attention through sententia. Only in Stanzas 8 , 9 , and 10 and in Stanza 24 does Sack­ ville approach the sententiousness of Buckingham, and even there his more "philosophical" statements are Indirectly arrived at, thus making those statements appear more natural. The second difference is that there is little separation of act and theme in "The Induction” of the sort there is in “The Complaint.” Whereas “The Complaint” presents a unified, if episodic, story which is punctuated by the com­ mentary, in “The Induction” the theme grows quite naturally out of the scenes, persons, and actions described. Thus, since the allegorical mode of presentation enables Sackville to embody the theme in the act, agent, or scene of his tale, he avoids in “The Induction” the heavy-handed moralizing which is characteristic of much mid-sixteenth-century narrative tragedy. NOTES TO CHAPTER II

1 Aphthonlus, "The Progymnasmata of Aphthonius In Translation," trans. Ray Nadeau, Speech Monographs, XIX (1952), 281. 2 Aphthonius, 266.

3 Aphthonius, 26?.

k Aphthonius recommends the following organization for these two themes: 1 . panegyric, 2 . paraphrastic, 3 . from the cause, 4. from the contrary, 5 . analogy, 6 . example, 7. testimony of ancients, 8. a brief epilogue (Aphthonius, 266-26?). 5 Aphthonius, 26?. 6 Aphthonius, 267.

7 Aphthonius, 265. 8 Certainly the Characterization. Encomium, Vituperation, and Commonplace aid in developing the plot, "but since they are even more Important to the ethos and pathos of the poems, I reserve discussion of them TorTater chapters.

9 But, of course, so does the Rhetorloa ad Herennlum (I, vlli, 13) in dividing the Narratlo into those based upon fact and those based upon character, fhe division of "factual" narratives into the legendary, realistic, and historical is repeated by Quintilian, who adds that "poetic narratives are the property of the teacher of literature. The rhetorician

80 81 therefore should begin with the historical narrative, whose force is in proportion to its truth” (Institutio oratoria, II, iv, 2).

10 Aphthonius, 265• 11 Cicero (De invent!one. I, xxvi-xxvlii, 37-42) had used another division for the analysis of action, but within his four categories ("attributes coherent with the action itself," those "partly considered in connexion with the performance of it," those "partly adjunct to it," and those "partly conse­ quent upon its performance") appear the topics of time, place, manner, and purpose.

12 "De Ratione Dicendi," ed. and trans. James Cooney (Unpublished doctoral dissertation, Ohio State University, Columbus, 1966), p. 215.

13 Vives, while denouncing the confusion of rhetoric and poetic, did not think highly of Aristotle’s Poetics: "The Ars Poetloa of Aristotle contains little fruit" (On Education, trans. Foster Watson £Cambridge, 1913^, P« 158). 14 Kenneth Burke, often castigated for recreating rhetoric in his own image, appears quite traditional In his five terms of "Dramatism": Act, Agent, Scene, Agency, and Purpose. See his A Grammar of Motives and A Rhetoric of Motives (Cleveland and ITew York, T962), p. xi'i'i et passim.

15 Aphthonius, 281. 16 Aristotle emphasizes the "liveliness. . . got by using the proportional. . . metaphor and by being graphic (i.e., mak­ ing your hearers see things)." (Rhetoric. Ill, 11, l^ll^Rl); Quintilian (Instltutio oratoria, V1YI, iii, 6l) recommends n ci/a./>r* or ’vision,' the vivid and animated representation of things by word-pictures," as J. W. H. Atkins notes in his Literary Criticism in Antiquity (Cambridge, 1934), II, 269* Cicero praises the Tiriiilant style for it "makes us feel that we actually see with our eyes" (De partltione oratoria. vi. 2 0 ). 17 A treatise of Schemes & Tropes. . . (London, 1556), 82 sig E.i.v . 18 Elizabethan and Metaphysical Imagery (Chicago, 1961), p. ll4.““TTlnIgK,F''be noted, however, that Sackville * s poems are so praised when Baldwin asks his group for comments. One says, "The tragedy excelleth: the lnuenclon also of the Induction, and the discrlptions are notable.” Baldwin also Indicates the importance of beholding when he prepares his listeners for the next tragedy, that of the poet Colling- boume: For the better perceyuing whereof, you must ymagin that you se him a meruaylous wel fauoured man, holdinge in his hand, his owne hart, newely ripped out of his brest, and smoaking forth the lively spirit: and with his other hand, becken- lng to and fro, as it were to w a m e vs to auoyde: and with his faynte tounge and voyce, sayeng as coragiously as he mav, these wordes that folowe” (The Mirror, p. 3 ^ 6 ) .

The remaining 196 lines are divided equally between Buckingham's curse upon Banaster (617-71^) and the Narrator's descriptions of Buckingham (5^0-616, 715-735). 20 b Rhetoric, III, 16 , l*+l6 22. 21 This grandfather, Edmund Beaufort, Duke of Somerset, was the second son of Edmund Beaufort, the youngest son of John Beaufort, who was the first son of John of Gaunt by his third wife, Catherine Swynford. Buckingham also had royal blood through his father's line; though he does not mention it, his father was the grandson of Ann, daughter of Thomas Woodstock, youngest son of Edward III. 22 His story is the subject of Tragedy 26, which appeared in the 15^3 edition of The Mirror. That tragedy substantiates Buckingham's description of his grandfather's devotion to the Lancastrian cause, but Edmund's Ineptitude is more striking than his loyalty. As he himself confesses, Were it by Folly or Fortunes fell despyte, Or by yll aspecte of some crooked sygne, Of my workes never could see a good fine: What so I began dyd seldome wel ende. (lines 17-20) 83

2 3 Somerset (in Tragedy 26) lists him among those who fall with him at that battle: “Stafford although stout, free went not from this marte” (215). His death is also referred to in the prose link between Tragedy 12 (Jack Cade) and Tragedy 13 (Richard, Duke of York). See The Mirror, p. 180. 24 His death is mentioned in the prose link between Tragedy 12 and Tragedy 13. See The Mirror, p. 180.

25 Buckingham, in his conversation with Ely, claimed that he feared the political conflicts which might develop under a minor king, and, like many of the other nobles, he resented the upstart Woodvilles, “’who take more vpon them, and more exalted themselues by reason of the quene, then dyd the kynges brethrene, or any duke in this realme.’“ Therefore, to stop the Woodvilles and to keep order, Buckingham joined with Richard, “’Whome. . , [1^] thought to be as cleane wlthoute dissimulation, as tractable without iniurie, as mercifull withoute crueltie, as nowe I knowe hym perfectely to be a dissembler without veritie, a tyrante withoute pitie, yea and worse then the tyraunte phaleres. . . .»“ Quoted from Edward Hall’s The Vnion of the Two noble and lllustre Families of Lanoastre and Yorke (T548) in G,B, Churchill, Richard tEe Third up to Shakespeare (Berlin, 1900), p. 186, 26 First person plural pronouns appear in lines 169, 173. 174. 175. 176, 177. 178, 183. 184, 188, 190, 192, 196, 197. 199. 200, and 201. First person singular: lines 180, I8 9 , 191, and 195. Third person singular: lines I89, 191, 192, and 195. 27 Thomas More, Complete Works of Saint Thomas More, ed. Richard S. Sylvester (Wew Haven, 19^5). II. 69-75. Hereafter cited as More, Works. 28 Polydore Vergil’s English History, ed, H, Ellis (London, 1844), p. 222,

29 In this section of The Complaint, Buckingham uses the first person plural in lines 239, 240, 241, 243, 244, 245, 246, 248, 249, 253, 254, and 255, and employs nouns or pronouns to refer to Richard alone in lines 257. 258, 26l, and 262. He does not refer to himself alone. 30 Unlike earlier tales in Buckingham’s story, this tale contains no first person plural pronouns except for the '•our" and "us” (lines 330-331) which refer as much to the universal "we" as to Buckingham and Richard.

This appears as agryesd in the 15&3 311(1 1571 editions, but is corrected to agriefde in the editions of 1574, 1575t and 1578. 32 This comparison of Richard to the tyrant Phalaris comes from Hall. See note 25 above.

33 "can" appears in the printed texts but is an obvious misreading of "gan," which appears in the manuscript. 34 More suggested one cause of Buckingham’s desertion of Richard was the former’s self-importance: "Very trouth it is, the duke was an high man, & euyll could beare y e glory of an other, so that I haue heard som y1' said thei saw it, that ye duke at such time as ye crown was first set vpon the protectors hed, his eye could not abide ye sight thereof, but wried his hed an other way." But More immediately qualifies this with other reports: "But men say y^ he was of trouth not wel at ease, & yt both to kyng Richard well knowen, & not yl taken. . ." (Works, II, 90). 35 More’s accounts of Buckingham’s motives are conjectural "And surely the occasion of theyr variaunce is of diuers men diuersly reported. Some haue I heard say, that the duke a litle befor the coronaclon among other thinges required of the protector the duke of Herfordes landes, to which he pretended himself iust inheritor. And forasmuch as the title which he claimed by Inheritance, was somewhat enter- laoed with the title to the crowne by ye line of kyng Henry before depriued: ye protector concelued such indlgnacion, y t he reiected ye dukes request w^ many spiteful & minatory wordes. Which so wounded his hert wt; hatred & mistrust, that he neuer after could endure to loke a right on king Richard, but euer feared for his own life. . ." (Works, II, 8 9 ). Shakespeare uses this oft-repeated motive in Richard III, IV, ii. 36 Sackville does not mention, as he might have, that Buckingham was one of the chief movers for Henry Tudor’s cause, as Edward Hall suggests in the conversation between Buckingham and Ely in Hall’s Chronicle (London, 1809), pp. 384-390. Nor does Sackville have Buckingham mention the 85 names of others involved In the plot against Richard. Perhaps Sackville avoids this matter so as not to embarrass Lord Stafford, the Duke’s grandson, who had helped in securing the licence for the first printing of The Mirror. (See ••Baldwin’s Dedication,»• The Mirror, p. 66). The Stafford claim to the throne was too good for the comfort of the Tudors. Richard S. Sylvester suggests that ••the parallel between the position of Henry, second Duke of Buckingham, and Edward, the third Duke may well have led More to break off his narrative” when Morton begins to incite Buckingham to rebellion (More, Works, II, lxlx). Sackville no doubt wished to avoid recalling the decline of the Staffords and particu­ larly the Tudors’ partial debt to them. Also the fact that Buckingham’s unfortunate end was caused in part by Henry Tudor’s failure to invade England at the appropriate time might suggest a certain deficiency in Richmond’s will to aid his friend. See Richard Grafton’s ’’Continuation” in Paul Murray Kendall, ed. Richard III: The Great Debate (New York, 1965), PP. 119-1^1. 37 See note 36 above. 38 Vergil (English History, p. 199) » Grafton (’'Continua­ tion” in Kendall, ed. Richard Ills The Great Debate, p. 117)» and Hall (Hall•s Chronlole, p.^39^) agree that Buckingham’s army deserted him because he did not pay them sufficiently.

39 Although Richard did offer money and preferments as a reward for the man who took Buckingham, the motives for Banaster’s betrayal are left open: e.g., "Whether this Banaster bewreyed the duke more for fear then couetous many minds doubt. . .” (Hall’s Chronicle, p. 395).

Cf. Thomas Wilson’s comment on "commoration”: "When wee are earnest in a matter, and feele the weight of our cause, we rest vpon some reason, which serueth best for our purpose" (The Arte of Rhetorlque, quoted in 0. B. Hardison, Jr., ed. English Literary Criticism: The Renaissance £New York, 19633*P* ^8). In dwelling upon the role of Fortune and upon his suffering, Buckingham helps to diminish our aware­ ness of his guilt. 41 Marguerite Hearsey (The Complaint of Henry Duke of Buckingham. Including the Induction, or, Thomas Sackville’s Contrlbution~~To the Mirror for Magistrates I'New Haven. 1936], pp. 108-109) has noted the similarity between these lines and Lydgate’s treatment in Fall of Princes, II, lines 3879- 86

3892: First she hath chargld to smyte off his hed, When she thus hath the victorle^off hym wonne. And in a bath, that was off blood al red, She gan it throwe, withynne a litle tonne. And off despiht riht thus she hath begonne, Most tirantly in his woful rage, To dede Cirus to hauen this language: "0 thou Cirus, that whilom wer so wood And so thrustleuh in thi tlrannye, Ageyne Nature to sheed manys blood. So woluyssh was thyn hatful dropisie That merci non myhte it modefie, Thyn etik joyned, gredi and onstable, With thrust off slauhtre ay to be vengable.

k 2 It is a wonder this tortured term has any meaning at all, it has been so stretched and chopped. From four-fold vision to literary symbol the term slips and slides depend­ ing upon which way the critic nudges it. Graham Hough*s clock in Preface to the Faerle Queene (New York, 1962), p. 107, suggests the varying degree of relationships between theme and image in allegory, and Morton W, Bloomfield, "A Grammatical Approach to Personification Allegory," MP, LX. (i960), 161-171, demonstrates that personifications need not become mere counters. 43 William Baldwin, in explaining the reasons for Sack­ ville's "Induction" indicates that Sackville had intended to begin with Buckingham's "Complaint" "And from that time backeward euen to the time of William the conquerour, he determined to continue and perfect all the story him selfe. . ." (The Mirror, p. 297).

Most commentators upon the poem have treated the sources with varying degrees of thoroughness. James Davies, in "A Mirror for Magistrates." Considered with Special Reference to the Sources of Sackville's Contributions (Leipzig, 19067noted some of the more obvious debts to the historians and to Virgil. Marguerite Hearsey in her annotations to The Complaint of Henry Duke of Buckingham. . . (New Haven, 1936 ) and J. Swart, Thomas Sackville: A study in Sixteenth-Century Poetry (Groningen, 19^9 ) add to the number of sources and analogues, but Paul Bacquet, Un con- temporaln D»Elisabeth I: Thomas Sackville. L'homme et L*oeuvre (Geneva, 1966T offers by far the most exhaustive discussion of the sources. 87

45 Bacquet, pp. 183-186. 46 Aphthonius, 279. 47 Ernst Robert Curtius, European Literature and the Latin Middle Ages, trans. Willard R. Trask (New York, 1953)» p. 1951 b8 Citations from Chaucer are to The Complete Works of Chaucer, ed. Fred N. Robinson (Cambridge, "Mass.71955)7 Hereafter cited as Chaucer, Works. The description of winter contains numerous -verbal echoes of Gavin Douglas* description of winter and Surrey*s sequel to "Complaint of a Louer, that Defied Loue. . (see Tottel*s Miscellany, ed. Hyder Edward Rollins, rev. ed. [^Cambridge, Mass., 1966J, II, 133-134). The pattern of the opening lines also recalls the descriptions of the weather and the heavens in the first five stanzas of Robert Henryson*s Testament of Faire Creselde (Works of the British Poets, ed. Robert Anderson 1 London, 179377 IT W ) T 49 Bacquet, p. 181, notes the similar pastoral qualities of lines 1-11 in the "General Prologue." 50 Bacquet, pp. 183-186. 51 Gavin Douglas, Virgil* s Aeneld translated into Scottish Verse, ed. DavlaF. C. ColdweTl (Edinburgh and London, 1959), pp. I8-I9 . 52 Douglas, p. 22.

53 Douglas, p. 28. 54 Cf. Bacquet, p. 193. 55 Cf. the shield of Aeneas in Book VIII of the Aeneid. 56 Sackville’s projected collection of instructive historical poems, which William Baldwin tells of, was never completed. See note 42 above. Chapter III

ETHOS

In controlling his audience*s response to the matter of his poems, Sackville, as we have seen, could heap inartificial proof upon Inartificial proof or emphasize various parts of his narrative. Depending upon what aspects of the action or argument were most important to him, he might emphasize the act itself, the manner of its performance, the scene in which it was performed, or the agent who performed it. This last element of the tale, the agent, becomes particularly Important when, as in the case of Buckingham and the Narrator, the agents are both characters within the poems and tellers of the poems them­ selves. As the agents become important as controls of our response to the story, their ethos also becomes important. Of course, the narrator^ is always important 2 as a control of our response. The importance of ethos in rhetorical persuasion is stated by Aristotle:

Persuasion is achieved by the speaker*s per­ sonal character when the speech is so spoken as to make us think him credible. We believe good men more fully and more readily than others: this is true generally whatever the question is, and absolutely true where exact certainty is impossible and opinions are di-

88 89

vided. This kind of persuasion, like the others, should be achieved by what the speaker says, not by what people think of his charac­ ter before he begins to speak. It is not true, as some writers assume in their treatises on rhetoric, that personal goodness revealed by the speaker contributes nothing to his power of persuasion; on the contrary, his character may almost be called the most effective means of persuasion he possesses.3

Although the characters in a literary composition may not— in most cases, should not— possess the precise qualities of the ideal orator, their qualities nevertheless contribute substantially to the way in which the audience responds to the argument of the story. The rhetorical texts popular in the Renaissance provided numerous observations about typical characters whose natures could be revealed in a few bold strokes. The critics* treatments of character type tended to produce flat, static portraits as opposed to full A developing characters in order to achieve decorous consist­ ency. Thomas Wilson, for example, advocates that men be •’painted out in their colours;1' they may be described by degreei

as a man of good yeares, is coumpted sober, wise, and circumspect: a young man wilde and careless: a woman babling. Inconstant, ^ and readie to beleeue all that is tolde her. or by vocation:

a Souldier is coumpted a great bragger, and a vaunter of himself: A Scholer simple: A Russet coate, sad, and sometimes craftie: a Courtier, flattering: a Citizen, gentle.’ 90

But in all cases the writer should heed the principles of consistency. Wilson*s projected treatment of Richard III reveals how far Shakespeare went in transcending the simple, one-dimensional type of character in his own Richard:

. . . for Richard the third, I might bring him in, cruel of heart, ambiclous by nature, enuious of mind, a deepe dissembler, a close man for weight!e matters, hardie to reuenge, and fearfull to lose his high estate, trustie to none, liberall for a purpose, casting „ still the worst, and hoping euer the best.®

The outline of the villain is here, but Shakespeare goes beyond the outline to create a villain with a magnetic vi­ tality. However reductive the rhetorics might make charac­ terization, they did provide, from Aristotle forward, key topics upon which a characterization could be built. Although the rhetoricians may emphasize various "places” to be considered in the development of characters, there is a fair amount of agreement about the more Important "places” for such development. In an oration praising an individual, the audience might expect to hear something about that person*s forefathers, the course of his life, the interests he displayed 9 in his life, and his achievements of body, spirit, and fortune. Aphthonius classified these topics under three main heads: Genus. including Race, Fatherland, Forbears, and Fathers; Education: Achievements of Spirit, Body, and Fortune.10 But in the ninth exercise, Characterization, he moved from the topics for praising to a treatment of the three types of 91

impersonation: Idolopoela, treating ”a known person but one deceased and thus prevented from speaking;1’ Prosopopoeia, in which something not human is made to speak; Ethopoeia, in which the person is known but his character is created. To these three types is added another, more important, distinc­ tion. The character may be emotional (i,.,e.» he reacts passion­ ately to his situation) or moral (.i.e., he reacts according to type) or combined, and in his statements the character uses a third tripartite distinction: past, present, future.11 The qualities of the figures as character inevitably affect their qualities as speakers by determining how the audience will respond to them. Thus, the characters as described in the rhetorical “places” help determine the degree of identifica­ tion a reader may feel for them. Of the two narrators in the poems, Buckingham corresponds to the Aphthonian idolopoela with a combined moral and emo­ tional character. In what he says about himself and in what the Narrator says in describing him, Buckingham appears in many respects an apt tragic hero (though perhaps even more apt as a tragic victim). In the penultimate stanza of "The Complaint,” Buckingham summarizes the more relevant informa­ tion which might serve in an Encomium upon him:

For of my byrth, my blud was of the best, Fyrst borne an Earle, than duke by due discent: To swinge the sway in court amonge the rest, Dame Fortune me her rule most largely lent: And kynd with corage so my corps had blent, That loe on whom but me dyd she most smyle? And whom but me lo, dyd she most begyle? (lines 764-770) 92

This stanza not only provides facts about Buckingham's Genus and Achievements of Fortune, Body, and Spirit; it also indi­ cates the contrast between past and present which dominates much of "The Complaint." In treating the roles his fore­ bears have played in the struggle between Lancastrians and Yorkists (in stanzas 3-7 of "The Complaint"), Buckingham notes those qualities which are most admirable and therefore most appropriate to heroes of tragedy and history and uses them to demonstrate his own claims to our respect;

For noble bloud made me both prince and pier Yea pierles too, had reason purchast place, And God with giftes endowed me largely here. (lines 15-17)

But as he goes on to demonstrate in discussing his forebears, reason does not purchase place: in this catalogue of five ancestors, all served the "right" cause loyally, but all came to violent ends. Nevertheless, his ancestors serve to demonstrate Buckingham's social and political position, which he again emphasizes after describing his Genus:

I was sometime a prince withouten pier. (line 51)

Thus, by his own assertions about his family and himself, Buckingham Indicates his qualifications as a tragic hero, for in the Renaissance reading of Aristotle the dictates of decorum necessitated that the chief character be socially and 12 politically significant. However, Buckingham's rights to 93 tragic station are not based solely upon his political posi­ tion, though one might argue that Buckingham*s Achievements of Fortune, Spirit, and Body are inextricably related to his Genus by the principle of decorum. Under the Achievements of Fortune, Buckingham's course traces the most common tragic pattern. In terms of the Aphthonian "places" (power, wealth, and friends), Buckingham moves from the relative insecurity immediately following the death of Edward IV to the second most powerful and wealthy station in the realm by Joining with Richard. But when that friendship falters, so do wealth and power. Of the Achieve­ ments of Spirit, Buckingham does not possess the strength of character of his partner. While his initial act is tainted slightly by ambition, his motives for Joining with Richard are his desire to serve his friend (lines 62-63) and his wish to bring some stability into the kingdom. However, Buckingham's weakness of character enables Richard to sweep him Into acts which are villainous, and though Buckingham is aware of the evil in these acts, he supports Richard in them until the evil takes its most revolting form in the murder of children and also threatens Buckingham's own position. Only then does Buckingham oppose Richard, but even that opposition is initially covert. Buckingham's march against Richard's forces reveals his courage, however reluctant he may have been in displaying it, and for a few moments in Tale IV Buckingham does appear more forceful in his acts. But 94 deserted by his army and Isolated from all sources of assistance, Buckingham very quickly resumes his role as victim of, as opposed to shaper of, his environment and is captured and executed. Buckingham's ethos as a live charac­ ter is a mixture of admirable and reprehensible qualities. He is noble by birth and by inclination: he thinks of the good of the kingdom, is a noble benefactor to Banaster and a loyal friend to Richard, is appalled by Richard's greatest atrocities, and possesses some courage. Yet the latter quality is weak, and that weakness is the crucial quality of his character. Because of this deficiency of will, his good intentions are perverted by the more forceful Richard, and his independent acts are foredoomed.^ As the figure the Narrator encounters in Hades, Bucking­ ham possesses an ethos different in degree from that he possessed in life. On the one hand, the description of him at the end of "The Induction," and immediately following his narrative render his ethos more intensely pathetic than it was on earth, though Buckingham in Tale V is approaching the condition he achieves in Hades. On the other hand, the curse Buckingham directs to Banaster is far more forceful than anything he does during or says about his earthly existence. The Buckingham of the curse apparently has had his earthly ethos refined away in death, and, with the restraints of mortality removed, he becomes at times almost pure pathos (or the purely emotional character). 14 While 95 these highly conventional descriptions of Buckingham's passions are means toy which Sackville attacks the readers' emotions and therefore are more properly the subject of the next chapter, they also serve logical and ethical functions in demonstrating the suffering due to mankind and toy charac­ terizing Buckingham as one who has so suffered. Yet the passion of Buckingham indicated in the closing stanzas of "The Induction" makes Buckingham's mode of narration in some respects improbable. As contrasted to the Buckingham of earthly existence and the Buckingham the Narrator describes, the Buckingham who tells his history to the Narrator is, through most of "The Complaint," in complete control of the rhetorical situation. Like the Buckingham of Sackville's sources, this speaker presents his case and argues it with consider- able skill. 1*5 The control he imposes upon the movement of his narrative and the care with which he seeks out analogues to his story belle the passionate man whom the Narrator describes in the last stanzas of "The Induction," Bucking­ ham's purpose in the narration is principally moral and didactic, while colored by appeals to emotions. In his opening and closing remarks, he Indicates how the Narrator should use the knowledge he (Buckingham) will impart. His obvious concern here for the good of other men indicates the nobility of his character. Further, he makes not only his statement serve the good of mankind; so aoes his 9 6 suffering;

Marke wel my fal, which I shal shewe bellve. And paynt it furth that all estates may knowe: Haue they the warning, and be mine the woe, (lines 12-14)

In casting himself as the scapegoat whose misfortunes are due largely to the workings of Fortune, he also extenuates his earthly guilt by elevating himself into a sacrificial victim. Although he dwells upon guilt, particularly in the second Tale and second catalogue, his repeated references to the workings of Fortune are a means by which he diminishes his own responsibility for the action of the poem. In his comments upon his own behavior he indicates that he is the victim, first of Richard, and then of the populace, but also of Fortune throughout his life. Also, by emphasizing his suffering in the story, he seeks to replace indignation at his acts with pity for his condition. Yet even with these devices Buckingham uses to extenuate his guilt, he appears, quite properly, the victim of his own sins. While Willard Famham*s claim that "Sackville does not 17 make Buckingham accuse himself” 1 is In the most literal sense true, Buckingham is not the slave of blind Fortune that some earlier tragic heroes were. As my comments upon the scenes of the tales have demonstrated, Buckingham’s evil acts, no matter how well Intended, no matter how Just the cause, lead Inexorably to an appropriate punishment. Fortune, to whom Buckingham repeatedly refers, assists in working out 97 the punishment of guilt. Buckingham, as narrator, is aware of this, as his frequent warnings to his audience indicate, concluding with:

Byd kynges, byd kesars, by all states beware, And tell them this from me that tryed it true. Who reokles rules, right soone may hap to rue. Q (lines 775-777)

The qualifier in the first half of the last line indicates a causal relationship between misrule and punishment, and the wisdom Buckingham has obtained through his own experience may aid others in avoiding a similar experience. This wisdom, which Buckingham displays so copiously in adducing inartificial proofs to analogize his own story, is the dominant quality of his ethos as narrator. His continual pointing of the moral and his opening remarks to the Narrator create a distance between him and his audience and between him and his story and, consequently, between his audience and his story. While Buckingham dwells upon the suffering of himself in the tales and of a variety of heroes in the cata­ logues, his sententiousness imposes upon the reader certain rational concerns, which necessarily diminish passions. As Lorich pointed out in his popular edition of Aphthonius, 19 the moral characterization and the emotional characteriza­ tion work in opposite directions. He refers to Quintilian*s oft-cited distinction between ethos (Quintilian1s term for 98 the moral character) and pathos (emotional character):

Quintilian, Bk. VI, Ch. Ill: pathos and ethos, he says, are of the same nature, but the former is greater, the latter less, so that love is pathos, charity ethos. Pathos enkindles, ethos calms: eth£~are-”character­ istics by which we may depict according to the condition of circumstances farmers, the superstitious, the avaricious, the timid, and from these characteristics continue the conduct of the oration. It is different with what is called pathos and what we properly call our emotions, and both (i.e., pathos and ethos) have different forms, the one (ethos) like comedy, the other (pathos) like tragedy.20

The essential points here are that ethos, which tends toward the typical, calms the emotions and that it does so, in part, by creating distance between reader and audience as in comedy. While that distance is generally greater in comedy than in tragedy, the special rhetorical circumstances of the complaint genre tend to create distance between the figure as narrator and as agent. And Buckingham, by keeping his distance from his story except when he relives his beheading and then rises to curse the betrayer Banaster, keeps the reader a safe dis­ tance from his story as well. What an anonymous reviewer said of Gorboduc's world is, therefore, also true of Bucking­ ham's: "We are asked to watch and Judge it, not live in

Since the Narrator is also a character in the two poems, Saokville faced some of the same problems with him that he faced with Buckingham. However, since the Narrator does not 99 exist separately as agent in the story, Sackville's problems are much reduced. Although the Narrator is a projection of Sackville, he qualifies as an Aphthonian ethopoeia, for he is " a k n o w person, , , . invented as to character only” 22 of the combined (moral and emotional) type. While the stages of the narrative in “The Induction" owe a great deal to Virgil's Aeneid. the character of the Narrator himself owes a good deal more to the narrators of various medieval dream visions and to the figure of Dante in Canto I of The Inferno. Like the narrator in Chaucer's The Book of the Duchess or Lydgate's The Complaint of the Black Knight. Sackville's Narrator discovers himself in a pastoral setting and, wandering, en­ counters the central figure of the complaint to whom he re­ sponds with a certain naive simplicity, but, as has been noted, the setting in which the Narrator finds himself is different from theirs. He is in his situation and character more like Dante at the opening of The Inferno:

In the middle of the Journey of our life I came to my self in a dark wood where the straight way was lost. Ah! how hard a thing it is to tell what a wild, and rough, and stubborn wood this was, which in my thought renews the fear! So bitter is it, that scarcely more is death: but to treat of that good that I there found, I will relate the other things that I discovered. I cannot rightly tell how I entend it, so full of sleep was I about the moment that I left the true way.23

Although Sackville's Narrator does not experience the pro- 100 found spiritual desolation of Dante, the dreary setting prepares him for the pathetic and fearful scenes which follow. While he broods upon the various scenes and figures that pass before him and becomes increasingly emotional in his responses to them, he is at first peculiarly unaware of their significance. In his response to the natural scenes (lines 1-63) and in his initial response to Sorrow, the Narrator is often surprised both in discovering his position and in discovering the meaning of the scenes. After the description of the coming of winter, the Narrator recognizes a warning in the scene:

Eche thing(me thought) with weping eye me tolde The cruell season, bidding me withholde My selfe within, for I was gotten out Into the fieldes where as I walkte about. (lines 18-21)

But the broader implications of this warning do not become clear until later in the poem. He describes scenes fully but is surprised at what he describes: after viewing the coming of night, traced out in considerable detail(lines 22-^9), he has been so concerned with viewing the scene that his discovery of a rather important fact about the scene comes suddenly:

The darke had dimmed the daye ear I was ware. (line 4-9)

The Narrator employs this same formula when he and Sorrow 101 begin their trek to Hades:

. . . I vpraysed stood, And gan to folowe her that strayght furth paced, Eare I was war, into a desert wood We nowe were cum. . . . (lines 183-186)

This slowness with which the Narrator discovers where he is, is matched by his slowness in discovering the truth about the ghostly figure who presents herself to him. Entering at line 71, Sorrow behaves appropriately to her character, and after the Narrator tries to comfort her (lines 99-102) she tells him who she is and where she comes from. The Narrator responds with appropriate emotions:

The colde pale dread my lyms gan overgo. And I so sorrowed at her sorrowes eft. That what with griefe and feare my wittes were reft. (lines 12^-126)

Yet, overcoming his fear, the Narrator again tries to com­ fort her, and only after she has issued her summons (lines 1^9-15^) does he perceive the complete truth about this unearthly visitor:

Musing vpon her wurdes, and what they were, All sodaynly well lessoned was my feare: For to my minde returned howe she telde Both what she was, and where her wun she helde. Whereby I knewe that she a Goddesse was. (lines 158-162)

Although the Narrator goes on to note Sorrow*s purpose in confronting him, he again fails to recognize the full signifi- 102

cance of her statement until they approach the Hell mouth and he hears, "A rumbling roar confusde with howle and barke / Of Dogs” (lines 192-193). Then the Narrator responds violently and must be reassured by Sorrow before he will continue the journey. This slowness to recognize the facts of the case stems from his propensity for brooding upon a single point as scene, and some of the best sections of "The Induction'1 are those slowly rendered scenes which the Narrator confronts and dwells upon, leaving only when jolted into self-consciousness by some discovery, as he is after the descriptions of winter and night. As he and Sorrow proceed toward Hades, the descrip­ tion of the Hell mouth gives way only after they move within and discover Remorse, the first of the allegorical portraits, and then each portrayed figure proceeds to displace an earlier one in the Narrator's awareness. At the end of these portraits appears War, whose shield contains such a variety of scenes that the Narrator dwells upon them at great length (lines k O O - 476) and leaves them reluctantly:

Herefrom when scarce I could mine lyes wlthdrawe. (line 4-77)

This reluctance to withdraw his eyes from the various scenes he encounters is also indicated by the fact that over half ok of "The Induction" is devoted to scene painting. In brooding upon the scenes and descriptions, the Narrator, when he responds, responds primarily in a highly 103

emotional manner. He appears extremely sensitive to the tragic implications of everything he encounters, for, as he says, when trying to comfort Sorrow, he is “as a man hym selfe with sorrowe slayne" (line 137).^ In his response to nature, to Sorrow, to the figures in Hades, to the crowd standing just "beyond the Acheron, and later to Buckingham in "The Complaint" (lines 591-592), the Narrator reveals his inclina­ tion to pathos as his chief quality as agent. Even when he moralizes, his statements are heavy with emotion. In Stanzas 8 and 9, he spends over half the stanzas in recapitulating the scenes and indicating their emotional effect upon him:

And sorowing I to see the sommer flowers, The liuely greene, the lusty leas forlome. The sturdy trees so shattered with the showers, The fieldes so fade that floorisht so beforne, It taught me wel all earthly thinges be borne To dye the death, for nought long time may last. The sommers beauty yeeldes to winters blast. Then looking vpward to the heauens leames with nightes starres thicke powdred euery where, which erst so glistened with the golden streames, That chearefull Phebus spred downe from his sphere, Beholding darke oppressing day so neare: The sodayne sight reduced to my mind, The sundry chaunges that in earth we fynde. (lines 50-63)

This mode of presentation is significantly different from that of Buckingham, who seems at many points far less sensitive and passionate than the Narrator. Another, and very crucial, difference between the Narrator and Buckingham is that the former begins his narration with two scenes and does not call attention to himself immediately, 104 while the latter begins with a general warning and directs his audience to behold in him an illustration of the general truth he has stated. Both figures seek in their narratives to teach and to arouse emotions, but the Narrator, in remain­ ing unobtrusive, allows his audience to participate more fully in the working out of his story. In this matter, Sack- ville has departed from the '’artful" modes of narration which he would have found in his sources, for, unlike the narrators of the dream visions, the Narrator in "The Induction" lacks an awareness of himself as narrator. Only once does he actually address his audience:

Astoynde I stalke, when strayt we approched nere The dredfull place, that you wil dread to here. (lines 202-203)

But even then the address does not create much measurable distance between the Narrator as character and the Narrator as narrator. Certainly, nothing in the Narrator's descrip­ tion of his own experience suggests the kind of authorial manipulation found in Dante's "I will relate the other things 26 that I discovered" or in Chaucer's "I, which made this 27 book" or in Lydgate’s The Complaint of the Black Knight:

A penne I toke, and gan me fast to spede The woful plaintes of this man to write 2fl All worde by worde right as he did endite.

On the other hand, Buckingham, while taking no pen in hand, makes his audience aware of the distinction between himself as character and narrator, and in directing that audience's 105 attitude toward him as character, he (as narrator) diminishes his audience's freedom and, consequently, the range and depth of its identification and, thus, participation. As Wayne Booth remarks in another context:

If the quality of each intrusion is not self-justifying, if the style and manner of the revealed author fread narrator]] are not in themselves compelling, then our disbelief in this aspect of the story will hamper our enjoyment of the whole.

Certainly Buckingham's intrusions are "self-justifying" in accordance with his preacher-ethos, and the early Elizabethan audience would have found great delight in just such in­ trusions, but a modem audience— and perhaps even a late Elizabethan audience— finds such overt manipulation less satisfying. Buckingham tells us what he is doing at the beginning, the end, and at regular intervals during "The Complaint." The Narrator operates in a different manner, a manner suggested by an earlier critic:

Bring yourself on the stage from the first in the right character, that people may regard you in that light. , . but do not let them see what you are about.30

By following Aristotle's advice, the Narrator manages to work more subtly upon our emotions through pathos. to make us experience tragedy, not just see it. NOTES TO CHAPTER III

1 I use Narrator to refer to the persona Sackville employs in the two poems; narrator to refer to the other persons narrating. 2 Wayne Booth*s The Rhetoric of Fiction (Chicago, 1961) suggests the variety of reiationsHips the narrator can establish between himself and his material and provides the most general and persuasive proof of the importance of “rhetoric” in fiction. There are numerous studies of the role of the narrator from Homer onward, but Robert M, Durling*s The Figure of the Poet in Renaissance Epic (Cambridge, Mass., 1955) is a particularly suggestive study of some Renaissance narrators.

Aristotle, Rhetoric, 1356 4-14. Quintilian supported Aristotle*s contention on this point, “that the strongest argument In support of a speaker is that he is a good man." However, he suggested that merely seeming good might serve almost as well" (Institutlo oratorla. V, xii, 9 ). 4 Madeleine Doran, Endeavors of Art (Madison, 196*0, pp. 256-257* 5 Thomas Wilson, The Arte of Rhetorique. in 0. B. Hardison, Jr., ed. English Literary Criticism: The Renais­ sance (New York, 1963;* p. 49. 6 Wilson, p. 4 9 . 7 Wilson, p. 4-9. 8 Wilson, p. 49.

Leonard Cox (Rhetoryke. ed. Frederick Ives Carpenter rChicago, 18991, pp. 5 7 ) and Wilson (The Arte of Rhetorique. in Hardison, ea. English Literary Criticism, pp. 35-37) empha-

106 107 size a chronological arrangement but cover the same matters suggested in Aristotle*s treatment of characters (Rhetoric, II, chs. 12-17)» Cicero*s treatment (De inventione. I, xxiv- xxv). and Quintilian's (Institutio oratoria, ill. viii, and V. x), 10 Aphthonius, “The Progymnasmata of Aphthonius in Transla­ tion,•» trans. Ray Nadeau, Speech Monographs, XIX (1952), 280.

11 Aphthonius, 280. 12 See, for example, J. E. Spingam, A History of Literary Criticism in the Renaissance (New York, 1963). pp.”3l-56, 1^-132'.' 1S0-IB2.------13 This weakness in Buckingham is very similar to that in More*s account, in which Ely plays upon Buckingham’s pride (and a certain blindness and weakness of character) in pre­ paring to incite him to rebel (More, Works. II, 91-93)» but Grafton makes the Duke himself the chief mover of the Tudor plot against Richard («Continuation," in Paul Murray Kendall, ed., Richard Ills The Great Debate TNew York, 19651, P. 113 f . ) ------14 Aphthonius, 278.

15 See, for example, More's statements about Buckingham's persuasiveness in his arguments against the abuses of sanctuaries, to which the previously reluctant clergy assent (More, Works. II, 29-32), and in his argument to the London Council that the members should choose Richard for their king. Since the Londoners are struck dumb by Buckingham's proposals, he has to repeat them: And by and by somewhat louder, he rehersed them the same matter agalne in other order and other wordes, so wel and ornately, & natheles so euident- ly and plaine, with voice gesture and countenance so cumly and so conuenient, that euery man much meruailed that herd him, and thought that they neuer had in their Hue s heard so euill a tale so well tolde. (More, Works, II, 75) 16 Cf. Aristotle, Rhetoric, III, chs. 8-9 . 108

1 7 The Medieval Heritage of Elizabethan Tragedy (Oxford, 1963), P. WT. 18 See also lines 14, 82-84, 110-112, 127-133, 738-742. 19 Donald L. Clark, in “The Hise and Fall of Progymnasmata in Sixteenth and Seventeenth Century Grammar Schools,*1 Speech Monographs, XIX (1952), 26l, has identified seventy-three printings of Lorlch's edition between its first printing in 1542 and 1689.

20 APHTHONII SOPHISTAE / PROGYMNASMATA. / . . . REINHARDI LORICHT"7 . T"T 158'3 (&T6 701), Sig. Y3V, cited in Charles Osborne McDonald, The Rhetoric of Tragedy (([Amherst]], 1966), p. 86. 21 "Good Manners and Good Letters," TLS, July 14, 1966, p. 6l4. 22 Aphthonius, 278. 23 Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy of Dante Alighieri: The Carlyle-Okey-Wicksteed ^translation (New York. 1950), p. TIT 24 If one allows that the figures present within the portal of Hades are more indebted to medieval allegorical portraits than to the succinct Virgilian descriptions, then 47 of the 79 stanzas are chiefly set descriptions, including the last three describing Buckingham but not those describing Sorrow. The Virgilian matter, including the treatment of Sorrow, covers 39 stanzas. Three stanzas (8-10) are devoted to brooding generalizations. 25 Cf.s "As he (alas) that nigh for sorowe deide," line 17 of John Lydgate*s The Complaint of the Black Knight in A Complete Edition of the Poets of <2reat Britain (London. I795T7TT5T5:------26 See note 23 above. 27 The Book of the Duchess, line 96; similar authorial comments appear periodically in the poem, 28 In A Complete Edition of the Poets of Great Britain, I. 519. “ 29 The Rhetoric of Fiction (Chicago, 1961), p. 146,

3° b Aristotle, Rhetoric, 1^17 7, Chapter IV

PATHOS

The third major rhetorical concern, pathos, treats the means by which the orator or poet may put his audience into an appropriately receptive mood. Pathos is a function of logos and ethos in that changes in the quality of these concerns affect the quality of the pathos, while the pathos affects the way in which the audience perceives the logos of a statement. As we have already seen, pathos is sometimes considered a counterpart to ethos, the former denoting the more violent emotions, while the latter treats the less violent.^ Certainly the credibility of the character and the sincerity of his emotional statements are crucial to our acceptance of those emotions which he would conjure in us. Therefore, the rhetoricians repeatedly insist that the speaker must feel the emotions if he is to make his audience feel them. But even when the argument is palpably absurd, the speaker may, through the mere exertions of style, win the assent of his audience. Thus, Aristotle remarks that the orator may convince an audience of the efficacy of

110 Ill his position even while his story is untrue, adding.

Besides, an emotional speaker always makes his audience feel with him, even when there is nothing in his arguments; which is why many speakers try to overwhelm their audi­ ence by mere noise,

This sound and fury of "mere noise11 may signify nothing, but it can nevertheless move an audience, particularly when the poet Induces in the audience a direct confrontation of the experience represented in the poem. Of course, since the poet was a teacher, the efficacy of his poetic statement should be judged by its 11 truth." In this matter the tragic poet enjoyed a special advantage, for his subjects were traditionally true.^ This insistence upon historical realism in tragic poetry, particularly by the sixteenth-century Italian critics, derives from a per­ ception that tragedy must be in some sense real. Thus, critics like Castelvetro and Piccolominl could claim that the emotional effects of tragedy were in a direct proportion II to its realism. But the reality perceived in tragedy could be more elemental than simple reporting. Such poetry, in Sidney*s words, "openeth the greatest wounds and sheweth forth the Vlcers that are covered with Tissue."'’ In re­ moving the thin tissues which cover the ulcers of the world, the poet could, through the very nature of his subject it­ self, prompt a deep and visceral response to his poem. As Sidney's example of Alexander Phaereus Indicates, even the 112 blood-thirsty tyrant, who is “not ashamed to make matters for Tragedies, £may not be able to] resist the sweet violence of a Tragedie."^ Although such a hardened audience (like Phaereus) might respond with powerful emotions to the art­ fully rendered tale and still not benefit from its didactic message, the rhetoricians and the practitioners of rhetoric insisted upon the necessity of striking the audience's emotions to make that message irresistible. So, Thomas Wilson, in discussing the three qualities required of the orator (to teach, to delight, and to persuade) gives special emphasis to the orator’s manipulation of the audience's emo­ tions: "hee must perswade, and moue the affections of his hearers in such wise, that they shalbe forced to yeeld 7 vnto his saying. . , ." The question was, of course, how could the violence be "sweetened" so that the tragedy would produce the desired effects. The rhetoricians provide the answer: through vehemence and vivification, which are a part of the orator's style. George Puttenham would recognize two types of orna­ ment in his discussion of style:

one to satisfie & delight th'eare onely by a goodly outward shew set vpon the matter with wordes and speaches smothly and tunably running, another by certaine intendments or sence of such wordes & speaches inwardly working a stirre to the mynde. The first qualitie the Greeks called Enargla, of this word argos, be­ cause it geueth a glorious lustreand light. The latter they called Energia. of ergon, because it wrought with a strong and vertuous operation.8 113

Thus, ornaments which have a clear, logical function m a y have o a pathetic function as well. The style which is clear is not so powerful as the style which is brilliant,10 but the style which is brilliant is not so powerful as that which moves. This fanciful style achieves its effects because it is visceral, attacking our senses as well as our minds, Quintilian's comments upon force suggest this without stating it directly:

Force, too, may be shown in different ways; for there will always be force in anything that is in its own way effective. Its most important exhibitions are to be found in the following: s , or a certain sublimity in the exaggerated denunciation of unworthy conduct, to mention no other topics; &a.x'rafa

Yet these figures, each of which has its place in Sackville's poetry, should be controlled in such a way as to move the mind in a particular direction. 12 Sackville's praise of earlier poets and his comments upon his own style indicate his conception of the emotions of tragedy. He praises Virgil's "loftie vers" and "wailful stile," Ovid's "weping pen," and Chaucer's "pitous plaint."1^ He also praises Sir Thomas Wyatt's "sacred psalme wherin he 114" singes the fall / of David dolling for the guilt he wrought / and Vries deth which he so dereli ■bought,” and the Earl of 14" Surrey*s "proud ryme that thunders in the aier.” Sackville regrets that he does not possess the skills of his predeces­ sors, for the subject he has chosen deserves all the poetic skills he can bring to it. Although his mind is charged with the proper emotions in that he is afflicted with pains, pensiveness, unrest, and woe, he claims, ”1 can not I depaint my smallest wo.” Clearly, Sackville wishes to achieve a majestic style yet one which reflects and depicts the lamentable disturbances which the characters in tragedy must feel. Despite his disclaimer, Sackville does reveal some skill in doing just that, and though his style is not exactly "ragged more rougher then the file," some ruggedness in his style helps him communicate his emotions to the reader. One of Sackville's chief stylistic features, his use of figures of repetition, enables him to stimulate, to focus, and to control the emotions of his audience. On the smallest scale this predilection reveals itself in the poet's use of alliteration, which lends emphasis to the statements and descriptions within the poem. But the alliteration becomes at times almost too pronounced. Certainly, it does heighten the sententiousness of such lines as

Mho reckles rules, right soone may hap to rue, (line 777) and, in doing so, signals the pithiness of the statement 115 and makes it more memorable. But alliteration could re­ inforce the emotive intent of a speech as well. Thus, Buckingham can actually hiss at Banaster when he curses the latter*s *'stayned stocke" (line 6^0) or directs his betrayer to behold the fate of his children: “Thy second sonne s 6 e drowned in a dyke" (line 695). Also, allitera­ tion enables the Narrator to suggest the intensity of the actions he describes, as, after Buckingham's curse,

. . . he floung his retcheles armes abrode, And groveling flat vpon the ground he lay, Which with his teeth he al to gnasht and gnawed: Depe groanes he fet, as he that would awaye. (lines 715-718)

The repetition of the gr- and gn- sounds actually makes the reader feel the action in his throat. Some of Sackville's best lines display a remarkable sensitivity to the powers of alliteration and assonance. In the final line of the first stanza in “The Induction," the very movement of tragedy (Sackville's, in any case) is suggested by the sounds:

The tapets tome, and euery blome downe blowen. (line 7)

The movement from the unvoiced “t's" to the voiced "b's" and “d“ and the increasing resonance of the vowel-consonant com­ binations in this line reinforce the pathetic mood which dominates the two poems, particularly “The Induction." This same fondness for repetition appears in another 116 guise in Sackville’s word-play. As we have already seen, 15 in Buckingham’s story, repeated terms keep before the reader the quality and consequences of the acts performed by Buck­ ingham and Richard. The progression from blood (Tales I-II) to guilt (Tales II-III) to fear (Tales III-IV) to betrayal (Tales IV-V) demonstrates the logically inevitable punish­ ments of crime, but these very terms repeatedly thrust upon the readers* consciousness also locate bur attention and help to control our response to the story itself. In the emphatic repetition of these terms, Sackville dwells upon the scenic qualities which help to suggest the mental agonies prompted by crimes and thus achieves the pathetic mood which he wished to create. Throughout both poems, the poet re- peatedly uses terms associated with tragedy: pity or ruth;l6 woe or sorrow17 or dolor: 18 and fear or dread; 19~ and he often couples the two tragic emotions in a single line:

Tweene dread and dolour. . . (•'The Induction," line 93) That dread and dolour. . . ("The Induction," line 128) With tender ruth on him and on his feres. ("The Induction," line 268) . . . wyth a rufull feare. ("The Induction," line 519) With trembling toung in dread and dolors rage. ("The Complaint," line 685)

The repeated references to these particular emotions are designed to stir in the reader an appropriate tragic response. 117

These repetitions become particularly forceful when the term passes quickly through a series of transformations (traduotlo) within a stanza, as in:

Whose rufull voyce no sooner had out brayed Those woful wordes, wherewith she sorrowed so. But out alas she shryght and never stayed, Fell downe, and all to dasht her selfe for woe. The colde pale dread my lyms gan overgo, And I so sorrowed at her sorowes eft That what with griefe and feare my wlttes were reft. ("The Induction,M lines 120-126)

The sorrowing of Sorrow and her violent reaction induce In the Narrator a homeopathic response. Her sorrow becomes his and prompts emotions which the audience will share in. Even when he does not refer to the tragic emotions directly, Sackville can inspire them by a simple repetition, as In Sorrow*s frightening summons:

Cum, cum, (quod she) and see what I shall shewe, Cum heare the playning, and the bytter bale Of worthy men, by Fortune ouerthrowe. Cum thou and see them rewing al in rowe. They were but shades that erst in minde thou rolde. Cum, cum with me, thine iyes shall them beholde. (lines 14*9-15*0

This hypnotic combination of anaphora and epizeuxls produces an effect both majestic and awe-inspiring. Such repetitions create a characteristic tension in Sackville*s narrative, for they almost freeze the moment while the verse Impels us onward. While these various kinds of repetition lend to Sack­ ville's verse energeia. his handling of larger figures of 118 thought gives his verse both energeia and enargeia and helps to give the emotions concreteness. The first two scenes in “The Induction" are filled with personifications partici­ pating in violent activities, but it is the victims of these actions who elicit our attention and sympathies. At the end of his description of the changing season, the Narrator conceives the hawthome as a personified victim:

Hawthorne had lost his motley lyverye, The naked twigges were shivering all for colde. (lines 15-16)

The nakedness of the bush suggests the frailty of man's con­ dition. He has only the weakest defenses against those forces which conspire to change his condition for the worse. Even when the figure suggests that man can prevail, he must use all of his courage to fight off the evils which beset him:

I strecht my selfe, and strayt my hart reuiues, That dread and dolour erst did so appale, Lyke him that with the feruent feuer stryves When sickenes seekes his castell health to skale: With gathered splrites so forst I feare to auale. (lines 127-131)

The intensity of the Narrator's psychological and emotional struggle is rendered more concrete by comparing it to the struggling of a sick man and is heightened by comparing the latter struggle to that of a beselged fortress. While the Narrator is here successful in the battle, fear prevails shortly after. 119

Buckingham* s analogies, also, suggest the very severe limitations of mankind. After describing the fate of his forebears, he brings himself into the action with a simile designed to diminish his guilt and to shift the emphasis to his suffering:

Like on a stage, so stept I in strayt waye, Enioying there but wofully god wot, As he that had a slender part to playe: To teache therby, in earth no state may stay. (lines W h - b ? )

While Buckingham*s role may be slight, it is charged with pathos which gives it greater didactic authority. In the similes which Buckingham uses to characterize his (and some­ times Richard*s) manner of action, the emphasis is always upon the suffering. While the wolf simile (lines 169-182) might suggest the forcefulness and violence of their characters, these qualities are undercut by the fact that the wolf is a victim as well as a predator. In comparing himself to a wounded deer (lines 232-2*1-5 )* to a knight beset by foes (lines 386-387), and to a turtledove lamenting the loss of his mate (lines 505-511). Buckingham makes the vehicles of the comparison increasingly pathetic. And when the Narrator compares the struggling Buckingham to a bull, the powerful animal is a baited bull:

Who so hath seene the Bull chased with Dartes, And with dyepe woundes forgald and gored so, Tyl he oppressed with deadlye smartes, Pall in a rage, and runne vpon his foe, Let him I saye, beholde the ragyng woe 120

Of Buckyngham, that in these grypes of gryefe Bageth gaynst him that hath betrayed his lyef. (lines 582-588)

While the bull gives a fair measure of the power of Buck­ ingham's anger and is an apt preparation for his powerful curse upon Banaster, the bull himself usually gets the worst in the battle. The descriptions of allegorical prosopopoeia, which take up almost half of "The Induction," enable Sackville to make thematic statements while retaining a certain amount of concreteness necessary for a controlled emotional re­ sponse. The prosopopoeia Sorrow, of course, dominates "The Induction" and is an embodiment of the mood of both poems. While she owes her role as guide to the Cumaean Sybil of Virgil, it is her role as a goddess, embodying the most generalized emotion of tragedy, which is most important to the effects of the poem. Taking some of her physical at­ tributes from Chaucer's Sorrow in The Romaunt of the Rose20 and Lydgate's sorrowing knight in The Complaint of the Blacke Knighte. 21 Sorrow is more medieval than classical in her genealogy. Her manner suggests her moral character, but, in her, the Aphthonian distinction between moral and emo­ tional character is confounded. She is a vivid projection of the Narrator's mood, and as the Narrator's wish has called her to him, so he and Buckingham share in the generalized emotions she embodies. Every descriptive detail devoted to Sorrow represents and measures the extremes of her emotions. 121

22 Like the Black Knight and other mourners, she is clad in black (line 73). She pours forth tears and sighs, wrings her hands, and tears her hair (lines 75-77). In describing her body, Sackville employs the archaic intensifier "for-,” similitudes, and a paradox to suggest the powerful emotion which has distorted her appearance:

Her body small forwlthered and forespent, As is the stalke that sommers drought opprest, Her wealked face with woful teares besprent, Her colour pale, and (as it seemd her best) In woe and playnt reposed was her rest. And as the stone that droppes of water weares, So dented were her cheekes with fall of teares. (lines 79-84)

These physical distortions, coupled with the violence of her speech and gesture (she throws her looks to heaven, shrieks, and sighs), fill the Narrator with pity and fear, but in trying to relieve her burden, he merely increases her sorrow and his own. In responding to the Narrator's queries, Sorrow becomes increasingly violent in her actions; so choked with 23 emotion that she cannot speak, she falls to the ground twice and grovels violently. However, when the Narrator indicates his concurrence with her passion, Sorrow experiences a final titanic burst of emotion which produces an appropriate cathartic effect:

I had no sooner spoken of a syke But that the storme so rumbled in her brest, As Eolus could neuer roare the like, And showers downe rayned from her lyen so fast, That all bedreynt the place, till at the last Well eased they the dolour of her minde, 122

And rage of rayne doth swage the stormy wynde, (lines 141-14?)

Prom this point on, Sorrow becomes a more majestic guide, and she now supports and reassures the Narrator as he had 24 tried to comfort her. This change in the relationship between the Narrator and Sorrow enables the latter to utter generalized warnings and the former to respond more emotional­ ly to the particular scenes. In her passionate behavior and abrupt change in charac­ ter, Sorrow foreshadows the quite similar appearance of 2*$ Buckingham, Like her, he is clothed in black, ^ wrings his * 2 6 27 28 29 hands, sighs, cries, tears his hair, 7 and looks to heaven. 30 He also tears his cloak, 31 beats his breast, 32 rolls his eyes, 33 and is so choked with emotion he cannot speak. 34 Buckingham also complains against Fortune, 35 but since such an act is inappropriate to a goddess, Sorrow has merely indicated her sympathy for men whom Fortune has be- trayed. However, Buckingham, like Sorrow, can suddenly regain his composure and recite his own history completely before he grovels upon the ground. ^ Like Sorrow, the personifications which the Narrator encounters within the portal of Hell are embodiments of the afflictions of man in completely emotional characters, but while Sorrow represents a more general response to the condition of mankind, these prosopopoelae represent more particular afflictions. In describing these figures, Sack- 123 ville indicates their psychological tortures through particular physical details or actions. Though many of the descriptive details are wholly conventional, Sackville maintains a uniformity of tone which gives the personifica­ tions impressiveness. Often Sackville hits upon a feature or mannerism which conveys the essence of his figures quite vividly. And again, as with Sorrow, the distortions of the figures help suggest the energeia which informs the portraits. The first personification, Remorse of Conscience (lines 38 218-231), shares certain characteristics with Sorrow, Like the goddess who is "with woful tears besprent" (line 80), she is "al besprent / With teares" (lines 219-220). She also laments her own plight with plenteous sighs and tears and looks to heaven as if to ask for some divine intervention. The first stanza devoted to the description of Remorse indi­ cates her passion, but the second stanza makes her passion and its cause more particular. Her lamentable condition is caused by "those detested crymes which she had wrought" (line 229), and the verb describing the action of her eyes suggests the violent agony of her existence:

Her iyes vnstedfast rolling here and there, Whurld on eche place, as place that vengeaunce brought. (lines 2 2 5 - 2 2 6 ) 3 ?

Ilq Trapped by her crimes, she wishes for death to escape her unbearable condition, but Sackville increases the pathos 12b by denying her that escape. b i Sorrow and the Narrator next encounter Dread. Like Remorse, he looks with fear into every quarter, but though his fears are largely unfounded, they produce in him vividly realized effects:

Next sawe we Dread al tremblyng how he shooke, With foote vncertayne profered here and there: Benumde of speache, and with a gastly looke Searcht euery place al pale and dead for feare, His cap borne vp with staring of his heare, Stoynde and amazde at his owne shade for dreed. And fearing greater daungers than was nede. (lines 232-238)

While most of the details of this description are applied to h o other figures in the two poems, the compactness with which those details are presented in this stanza and particularly the uncertainty with which Dread puts out a tentative foot make the figure a fine emblem of the emotion he represents.

The figure Revenge (lines 239-2^7) J presents a face and manner quite different from the preceding personages.

She has an appropriately "bloudy foule pretence" (line 2b6) bb and sits "gnashing her teeth for yre" (line 2bo). She is restless like the other figures, but her restlessness comes not from guilt or fear but from a violent resolve "To dye by death, or vengde by death to be" (line 2^5).^ She is the obverse of Remorse, who wished for death only, and as Remorse evokes pity, she prompts terror in the Narrator and Sorrow who discretely withdraw "With trembling limmes" (line 2^ 8). 125

These first three figures portray the emotions which dominate the two poems, and their order of appearance foreshadows the order in which those emotions will take Il< precedence in Buckingham's tale. While the majority of the remaining figures represent conditions which are not central to the tragedy of Buckingham, Sackville, following Virgil's precedent, describes them no less fully than he described the first three and returns to figures relevant to Buckingham's tragedy with the personifications Death and War. I try Misery (lines 252-266), whom the Narrator and Sorrow encounter when they flee from Revenge, demonstrates in his appearance and behavior the effects of penury. His face is wasted as is Sorrow's, but the cause of his condition is more particularized than hers. Although his body is con- 4q cealed in rags and patches, 7 his face and hands, "consumed to the bone" (line 254), indicate the effects of starvation. "With staffe in hand, and skrip on shoulders cast," he re­ minds one of a pitiful mendicant wandering through a world of woe. But it is his obsessive behavior which gives him his pathetic vitality. Like others stricken with poverty, he is reduced to making his meals of "wylde fruytes" and water,

Vnless sumtime sum crummes fell to his share: Which in his wallet, long God wote kept he. As on the which full dayntlye would he fare. (lines 261-263)

The manner with which he cherishes his meager store of food measures the extremity of his condition. One would expect 126 a person so starved and wasted to eat more ravenouslybut Misery hoards and treats scraps like rare delicacies. How­ ever, the reaction of the Narrator makes clear that Misery treats the crumbs in this way not because of delight but be­ cause of his fear of wasting them. There is no pleasure in his feast. Greedy Care (lines 271-280)'’1 shares some of Misery*s physical attributes,

. . . his fleshe deepe dented in, With tawed handes, and hard ytanned skyn. (lines 272-273)

However, his hardship is of another kind: he works himself into his wasted condition by rising before the sun does and prolongs his work late into the night. His obsession with labor makes him defy the natural limits of the work day:

But let the nightes blacke mistye mantels rise, And with fowle darke neuer so much disguyse The fayre bright day, yet ceasseth he no whyle, But hath his candels to prolong his toyle. (lines 277-280)

52 Heavy Sleep (lines 281-294) provides some relief from the behavior of Greedy Care, for she at last releases us from toils. Sackville does not describe her physical appearance with the sensuous details which indicate the distorting agonies of the other figures. Yet the conventional concep­ tion of her as like a corpse and "as a liuing death / So dead alyve" (lines 286-287) is a distressing reminder of her 127 relationship to Death. Unlike the other figures, Sleep does offer a benefit in that she closes our senses, but even this is undercut:

And of our life in earth the better parte, Reuer of sight, and yet in whom we see Thlnges oft that tide, and ofte that neuer bee, (lines 290-292)

Thus, Sleep, which may relieve us from the terrors of a waking state, only substitutes more fantastic visions to supplement those remembrances of waking life. Though she may rob us of our senses, she allows us to see even greater terrors in dreams. Old Age (lines 295-336) receives the most detailed treat­ ment of all the figures. As Sleep closes man's senses, so Old Age has had his closed by the workings of time. The final 53 stanza devoted to him recalls the riddle of the Sphinx^ and 5k the old man in "The Pardoner* s Tale** s

Crookebackt he was, toothshaken, and blere iyed, Went on three feete, and sometime crept on fower. With olde lame bones, that ratled by his syde, His skalpe all pilde & he with elde forlores His withered fist stil knocking at deathes dore, Fumbling and driueling as he drawes his breth, For briefe the shape and messenger of death. (lines 330-336)

However, unlike the man in Chaucer, Old Age does not seek his end. Haunted by ”swete remembraunce of his pleasures past” (line 305)t he mourns for his lost youth and seeks to fore­ stall his death, even though his present life brings only 128 misery. The Narrator remarks upon this paradoxical condition:

But who had seene him sobbing, howe he stoode Vnto him selfe and howe he would bemone His youth forepast, as though it wrought hym good To talke of youth, al wer his youth foregone, He would haue mused, & meruayld muche whereon This wretched age should life desyre so fayne, And knowes ful wel life doth but length his payne. (lines 323-329)

One is reminded of Kent's speech to Edgar:

Vex not his ghost: 0! let him pass; he hates him That would upon the rack of this tough world Stretch him out longer. “

But Sackville's figure is reluctant to part even with the miserable life. Next to Old Age, the Narrator and Sorrow discover Malady (lines 337-3^3).^ She, too, is robbed of her senses and her appetite. She must lie in bed, a burden to and burdened by those who attend her, for her situation is charged with a sense of futility: "her sickenes past recure," she spends her time "Detesting phlsike, and all phisiekes cure" (lines 3^2-3^3). Unlike Old Age, she finds no pleasure even in misery, for she has lost her appetite for anything in this world. If Malady reveals the pathos of the loss of all appetite, 57 Famine (lines 3^6-371)* nex-fc figure, reveals the fury of overwhelming appetite. Her hunger is reflected in her "greedy lookes," "gaping mouth," "gaping Iawes," and "tearyng 129 nayles.” She roars for food and even gnaws upon her own body in her desperate attempt to gain sustenance, but though she reduces herself almost to nothing, Sackville emphasizes that her violence is all "in vayne" (lines 35^. 3^3). The Narrator is moved to tears by the sight of Famine's body ••All full of holes” (line 352), and as her actions become more violent, so his (and Sorrow*s) reaction becomes more charged with pity; in fact, his eyes "bleed” (line 366), As has been mentioned, the first three figures fore­ shadow the progression of emotions in Buckingham*s history. Each of the remaining six figures is related to the one preceding it by analogy (Greedy Care to Misery by similarity of their wasted condition, seen particularly in the hands; Old Age to Sleep by a similar loss of senses), by contrast (Sleep's inaction opposed to Greedy Care's obsessive labors; Famine's hunger opposed to Malady's lack of appetite), or by a logical association (Malady, a natural attendant to Old Age). The means by which Sackville moves from these essential­ ly human figures to the more divine figures of Death and War 58 foreshadow the sudden shift which occurs in ”The Complaint.” Whereas the often mechanical transitions between the first tin nine help to keep them distinct,-'7 the transition between Famine and Death is made more violent, for the latter figure breaks the frame of the former's portrait. As Sorrow and the Narrator are reacting to Famine, the latter»s behavior 130 changes suddenly:

Loe sodaynelye she shryght in so huge wyse, As made hell gates to shyver with the myght. (lines 367-368)

The cause of her pain is immediately revealed, for she has been struck with Death's dart. Up to this point in the narrative the allegorical figures have been distorted human figures. They all share in the general woe of man, but each of them represents a particular affliction given life through appropriate descriptive details. While Sackville treats the same figures found in Virgil's underworld, he has reordered the appearance of the figures to indicate a logical, or analogical, progression. While Virgil had grouped the personifications closely together, describing each with at most an epithet or phrase and had imposed no clear order in the catalogue, Sackville is more interested in describing the effects of each condition and in defining the relationships between them. The difference between Death and War and the preceding figures is indicated by the comments the Narrator makes upon the two. Both Death and War take human forms, but they are seen as destructive agents working not from within but upon man. Appearing as a skeleton and frightening the Narrator with his brandished dart after removing it from Famine's 131 breast. Death

. , , dauntes all earthly creatures to his lawe: Agaynst whose force in vayne it is to fyght Ne piers, ne princes, nor no mortall wyght. No townes, ne realmes, cities, ne strongest tower, But al perforce must yeeld vnto his power, (lines 37^-378)

War, who appears as a grim-faced warrior holding a bloody sword in his right hand and fire and famine in his left, governs the same people and principalities, but instead of stating that they must "yeeld vnto his power" as they do to Death*s, Sackville shifts the emphasis to War as a violent agent of death and destruction by heaping verbs of violences

Cities he sakt, and realmes that whilom flowred, In honor, glory, and rule above the best, He overwhelmde, and all theyr fame deuowred. Consumed, destroyed, wasted, and neuer ceast, Tyll he theyr wealth, theyr name, and all opprest, (lines 393-397)

In this movement from Death to War, Sackville progresses from the most general destructive agent to a more particular one. The momentum of narrowing the focus apparently carries him onward, for he soon becomes engrossed in the figures upon War's shield. Within the shield, the Narrator sees Deadly debate, unlike Virgil's figure, diminished to a subordinate position. While the description of her snaky hair and bloody fillet recall Virgil's description, her position here suggests depictions of Fortune sitting at the center of her wheel. 132 Whether Virgil*s Discord or Lydgate's Fortune, she is sur­ rounded by heroes and cities who have become her victims. While each of these heroes and towns demonstrates the es­ sential frailty of mankind, Sackville hurries through the catalogue of Inartistic arguments^1 until he comes to the fall of Troy, but since that city possesses particular significance for the Tudor Englishman, Sackville devotes a full six stanzas to detailing and lamenting that fall. Instead of simply refer­ ring to that fall or suggesting an image, he dwells upon the fates of Priam, Hector, and Cassandra and the burning and 6 2 sacking of the town. This historical scene leads the Narrator away from the allegorical figures, and Sorrow must recall him so that they may move on into Hades. These descriptions of the allegorical figures reveal Sackville's preoccupation with the downward side of Fortune's wheel. His tragedies are more pathetic than terrifying. Most of the scenes in "The Induction" also emphasize this aspect of tragedy. Particularly when he goes beyond the machinery provided In Aeneas* descent into Hades, Sackville dwells upon decline and decay. Winter destroys the fruits of summer; the Night displaces Day; Sorrow embodies the dominant tone of the poem and assumes a more majestic manner only when the Narrator assumes a greater share in her nature; and the allegorical figures, exemplifying the various frailties of man, evoke pity while demonstrating why man should eschew the world. ^ The movement of "The Induction" 133 is at once progressive and repetitive. The general theme is realized in all the particulars of the poem, and the descent itself suggests the movement of the wheel. But because of the Narrator's ethos we realize the scenes as fully as he does, and we submit ourselves to his pace as he stops or moves on. The narrative pace in Buckingham's story within "The Complaint" is much more regular than that in "The Induction." While his tragic history, like "The Induction," emphasizes the pathetic, his high moralizing keeps us at a distance. Instead of allowing the lesson and the emotions to remain implicit in his story, Buckingham must abstract their essence and club us with it. Although some of the analogues are both enargetic and energetic, their very vividness works against the vivid realization of the story itself by drawing off the reader's attention and participatory energies. They also seem to belie the Buckingham we encounter at the end of "The Induction:"

Thryse he began to tell his doleful tale, And thrise the sighes did swalowe vp his voyce. (lines 5^7-5W

The narrator Buckingham of "The Complaint" has no difficulty in presenting his case. He even seems a little too much in control of himself to be the same man who lived out the history he presents. In playing the advocate, the narrator Buckingham casts his earthly self chiefly as victim. Like 134 the movement in “The Induction,” the movement of the living Buckingham is primarily downward, while the narrator Buck­ ingham's position remains relatively fixed. This triple division of the character creates a problem of belief, for the narrator Buckingham is rather distant from the sorrowing Buckingham of "The Induction” on the one hand, and the earth­ ly Buckingham, on the other. However, Sackville does overcome this division at the end of Buckingham's history with a radical shift in point of view. As the story of Buckingham concludes, all three Buckinghams are united through a violent re-enactment of the beheading:

Fast by the city. . . . Withouten doome where head and lyfe I lost. And with these wordes, as if the axe even there Dismembred had his head and corps aparte, Dead fel he downe: and we in woful feare Stoode mazed when he would to lyef revert: But deadly griefes stil grewe about his hart, That styll he laye, sumtyme reuived wyth payne, , And wyth a sygh becumming dead agayne. (lines 538-546)

The startling return of the Narrator and the sudden vision of Buckingham struggling upon the ground transform him into a more credible character. Because of this rapid shift in point of view and because of the vividness of his struggling, Buckingham, demonstrating his pathos, is more alive in these lines than he is at any point earlier in the poem. (In the same way, heroes of the later dramatic tragedies appear most 135 alive when they are caught up in sudden fits of passion.) But after this master stroke, Sackville follows it with yet another radical shift: the three following stanzas forget Buckingham completely— even the Narrator vanishes— and present a beauti- 66 ful description of the peacefulness of Night. This sudden relaxation of the tensions of the narrative serves to heighten the effect of the description preceding and following it. Sackville could have learned the value of such juxtapositlon- ings from the spectacular shifts in medieval vision poems like The Pearl or from those in the sonnets of his older contempo­ raries, Wyatt and Surrey. After these two sudden shifts, Sackville slowly begins to build the tension again, leading to Buckingham's curse. The Narrator's description reveals a Buckingham different from the three we have seen thus far. He appears similar to the figure we encountered at the end of "The Induction," but he is charged with far greater energy. The allitera­ tion, the repetition, the comparison of Buckingham to a raging bull, and the vivid description prepare us to accept and share in the Narrator's reception:

With blud red iyen he stareth here and there, Frothing at mouth, with face as pale as cloute: When loe my lymmes were trembling all for feare, And I amazde stoode sty11 in dread and doubt. (lines 589-592) 136

And again:

And I the while with spirites wel nye bereft, Beheld the plyght and panges that dyd him strayne. And howe the blud his deadly colour left, And strayt retumde with flamyng red agayne. (lines 603-606)

The surging of blood in these last two lines is characteristic of the whole description, which moves from sighs to rages to sighs to rages in rapid succession. These effects of passion alternate so quickly that Buckingham takes a full seven stanzas before he is able to manage a full sentence, but once he manages to utter one, he builds his curse without interruption. Buckingham * s curse itself (lines 617-714-) is a minor masterpiece comparable to Videna's soliloquy in Gorboduo. ^ In it Buckingham* s speech builds with a number of topoi common to laments. 6fl Buckingham moves through a series of Invocations in three stanzas before turning upon Banaster himself, and each figure or element invoked has a particular role in the judgment of Banaster. Heaven, earth, and the 69 stars, and Phebe, ^ Buckingham charges as witnesses to his case:

Witnes the playntes that In these panges opprest I woful wretche vnlade out of my brest. And let me yeald my last wordes rre I part, You, you, I call to record of my smart. (lines 620-623)

As though he did not possess passion enough, he next calls 137

70 upon the Fury, Alecto, to heighten his complaints'

And thow Alecto feede me wyth thy foode Let fal thy serpentes from thy snaky heare, For such relyefe wel sittes me in this moode, To feede my playnt with horror and wyth feare, While rage afreshe thy venomd worme arear. (lines 624-628)

Buckingham, it appears, would feed on venom so that he might pour it forth more furiously upon the detested Banaster, He next invokes the Sybil to guide his words (lines 629-630) and then turns to Jove himself and asks for the inevitable judg­ ment against his adversary. When Buckingham finally turns to Banaster, he has all the divine forces upon his side, but before presenting his case, he measures his hatred again by extending his curse to everything vaguely associated with Banaster1s existence:

The vnhappy hower, the tyme, and eke the place. The sunne and Moone, the sters, and all that was In theyr aspectes helping in ought to th£e, The earth, and ayer, and all accursed bee. (lines 648-651)

To Buckingham, all things have conspired against goodness, % and, therefore, all should have been destroyed. In stating his case against Banaster, Buckingham employs 71 a number of the topics from the Aphthonian Commonplace1 and 72 Vituperation. The final tale of Buckingham*s story provides the narrative of the Commonplace. ^ and there the facts about Buckingham's benevolent treatment of Banaster 74 in helping him rise above his former station' make Banaster*s 138 betrayal seem all the more incompatible (Commonplace: topic 1) and unjust (Commonplace; topic 7). Buckingham empha­ sizes this incongruity within the cursej

And thou caytief, that like a monstar swarved, From kynde and kyndenes, hast thy mays ter lome. (lines 652-653)

He goes on in a series of rhetorical questions (lines 659- 663) to recall his aiding of Banaster to emphasize the in­ justice of the latter*s behavior. To punish Banaster*s betrayal, Buckingham would heap 7*5 76 woe upon woe. He would have no one pity or aid Banaster:'

And let no wyght thy woe seeke to withholde: But coumpt thee wurthy (wretche) of sorrowes store, That suffryng much, oughtest still to suffer more. (lines 677-679)

Everyone shall rejoice at Banaster*s misfortunes and "shame- full death, to ende Qhis^ shamefull lyfe" (line 681). He envisions an aged Banaster brought to trial and trembling at the bar, but this comes only after Banaster has experienced the horror of seeing his three children stricken. Bucking­ ham relishes describing these punishments and devotes a separate stanza to each of Banaster*s children so that he may portray the workings of retributive justice in vivid detail. Although each of these stanzas, describing in turn the decrepit Banaster in court, then the first son going mad, then the second son drowning in a puddle, then the daughter stricken with leprosy, is closed off by a remark 139 upon the appropriateness of the punishment, Buckingham, unwilling to leave off, begins the following stanza with a connective which introduces yet another punishment. Thus, after describing the old Banaster, he opens the next stanza:

Yet shall not death delyuer thee so soone Out of thy woes, so happye shalt thou not bee. (lines 687-688)

After detailing the fate of the first son, Buckingham again moves on:

And after this, yet pray I more, thou may Thy second sonne s6e drowned in a dyke. (lines 69A— 695)

And again, after seeing the second son:

And not yet shall thy hugie sorrowes cease Ioue shal not so withholde his wrath fro th6e, But that thy plagues may more and more encreas, Thou shalt still lyve, that thou thy selfe mayst s6e Thy deare doughter stroken with leprosye: That she that earst was all thy hole delyght, Thou now mayst loath to haue her cum in sight. (lines 701-707)

Buckingham’s insistence that Banaster see the suffering of his children, that his grief become forever greater, that what is most dear to him become foul and repulsive, may seem excessive, but this excessiveness is characteristic of the new, passionate, awe-inspiring Buckingham. One would expect that Buckingham’s curse might purge some of his emotions. Certainly it does rob him of his seises briefly. He struggles with the same groans and 1*K> sighs as before and finally begins to recover the ethos of the narrator Buckingham in the confused speech suggesting a man regaining consciousness:

Ah where am I, what thing, or whence is this? Who reft my wyts? or howe do I thus lye? My lims do quake, my thought agasted is, Why sygh I so? Or wherevnto do I Thus grovle on the ground? (lines 729-733)

He again breaks off briefly, but quickly returns in full control of himself and knowing precisely what he wants to prove. Although we have returned to the dreary narrator Buckingham, his words now possess an authority they did not bear earlier, for our sudden vision of the passionate, agonized, but forceful speaker of the curse (of whom the narrator Buckingham seems unaware) has, like a good exordium, prepared us for the final lesson. In this chapter we have seen a number of rhetorical devices at work in the two poems to give them those much- praised qualities of enargela and energela. Through various kinds of repetition, including repetitions of sounds, words, and narrative forms, Sackville gives the poems a sense of energy and tension. Through the vivid rendering of scenes filled with activity and personages who act, Sackville makes us both see and feel the action. And through some startling shifts in the narrative, Sackville effects radical changes in the readers* emotions. Although no one could deny that the poet is primarily didactic, his skillful use 141 of rhetorical forms creates in his work an emotional in­ tensity unusual in The Mirror for Magistrates. While "The Complaint" contains some striking moments, particularly in Buckingham's re-enactment of the beheading and in his curse, "The Induction" is more uniformly superior, for in "The In­ duction" Sackville allows his didacticism to remain implicit in the embodied allegory, whereas Buckingham performs the allegorical analysis for us. Thus, in one poem we are closer to the action and feel its impact more fully. NOTES TO CHAPTER IV

1 See Chapter III, p. 98. See also Madeleine Doran, Endeavors of Art (Madison, 1964), pp. 232-239.

Rhetoric, l4o8a23.

3 See Chapter II, p. 80-81, n. 9 . 4 G. Giovannini, "Historical Realism and the Tragic Emo­ tion in Renaissance Criticism," PQ, XXXII (1953)* 312. This concern for poetical truth is also demonstrated in The Mirror itself. See Alwin Thaler, "Literary Criticism in A Mirror for Magistrates." JEGP, XXXIX (1950), 1-14.

5 An Apologie for Poetrie, in 0. B. Hardison, Jr., ed. English Literary Criticism: The Renaissance (New York, 1963)7 p."122. 6 An Apologie for Poetrie, in Hardison, ed, English Literary drltiolsm: The Renalssance. p. 122. 7 The Arte of Rhetorlque, in Hardison, ed. English Literary Criticism: The Renaissance, p. 32. 8 The Arte of English Poesie, III, iii, in Hardison, ed. English' Lj-berary Crltioisml Ihe Renaissance, p. 175. 9 The three rhetorical modes (logos, ethos, pathos) obvious­ ly affect and are affected by each other, but most critical apologists since Aristotle have subordinated the emotive to the intellective powers of art. Doing so has enabled them to evade the serious issues raised by Plato.

142 143

10 Cicero, De partitlone oratoria, vi, 20; Quintilian, Instltutio oratoria, VllIT"iii, 61-62. 11 Quintilian, Instltutio oratoria, VIII, iii, 88-89. 12 The presence of smaller rhetorical forms in Sackville1s poetry has been noted by a number of critics, notable Vere Laura Rubel, Poetic Diction in the English Renaissance (New York, 1941) and J. Swart, ThomasT’Sackv 1lies (Groningen, 1949). However, D. A. Davie, in "Sixteenth Century Poetry and the Common Reader: The Case of Thomas Sackville,” Essays in Criticism. IV (195*0, 119 ff*., notes, quite properly, that too often parsing the text for these smaller forms often leads to forgetting questions of value.

13 These comments are contained in the stanzas and partial stanzas which follow the two poems in Sackville*s manuscript. The whole manuscript has been edited by Marguerite Hearsey, and these lines also appear on pp. 544-547 of Appendix C in Lily B. Campbell's edition of The Mirror. I cite the latter. In praising Ovid, Sackville was no doubt thinking of De Tristi- bus, and in his praise of Chaucer, he includes the pseudo- Chaucerian The Complaint of the Black Knight (by Lydgate) and ’’Woful mary woful magdalain” as well as Troilus and Criseyde. 14 Sackville obviously refers to Surrey’s translation of Virgil, and the Earl’s ’’Praise of certain psalmes of Dauid . . . ,” poem 29 in Volume I of Tottel*s Miscellany, ed. H. E. Rollins (Cambridge, Mass.,1966), no doubt suggested the lines cited: ”0f iust Dauid. ../.../ How Iewry bought Vrlas death full dere.” Wyatt’s Certayne Psalmes chosen out of the Psalter of David commonlye called thee. vll. penytent1all Psalms had! been printed in 1349. 15 See Chapter II, pp. 60-61. 16 “The Induction,•» lines 74, 77, 86, 105, 120, 251, 268, 366, and 519; "The Complaint,” lines 52, 298, 355, 359, and 777. 17 ’’The Induction,” lines 14, 69, 74, 80, 82, 91, 95, 99, 102, 103, 107, 108, 116, 121, 125 (two), 126, 134 (two), 137, 139. 166, 251, 314 (two), 412, 437. and 542; ’’The 144

Complaint," lines 14, 45, 137, 230, 242, 388, 503, 542, 586, 621, 6?? 679. 701, and 728. 18 •'The Induction,” lines 88, 93, 97, 98, 128, 146, 344, and 470; "The Complaint," lines 38, 135, 157, 511, 616, 673 685, and 748.

19 "The Induction," lines 93, 124, 126, 128, 131, 148, 159, 182, 198, 203 (two), 217 (two), 226, 230, 232, 235 (two), 237, 238, 268, 289, 380, 382, 506, and 519; "The Complaint," lines 102, 149, 154 (two), 181, 196, 204, 205, 206, 210, 228, 230, 231, 236, 238, 244, 249, 256, 260, 263, 265, 269, 272. 278, 281, 285, 286, 289, 303 (two), 305 (two), 312, 315, 369, 411, 542. 519. 591, 627, 633, 685. 20 Lines 301-348.

21 In The Works of the British Poets, ed. Robert Anderson (London, 179f>), I. 51?. 22 Cf. The Complaint of the Black Knight, p. 515; Troilus and Cri se y d ~ I V f K E 7 8 i : ------23 "The Induction," lines 103, 123. The second fall is miraculous, for she has not bothered to rise. Her divine nature no doubt accounts for this. 24 As the Narrator comforts Sorrow ("The Induction," lines 96-102) and even raises her from the ground ("The Induction," lines 132-133), so she reassures and supports him when he would turn back from the Journey to the underworld ("The Induction," lines 197-200). 25 "The Induction," line 534. 26 "The Induction," line 535. 27 "The Induction," lines 545, 548. 28 "The Induction," lines 552, 553. 145

29 “The Induction,' line 54l. 30 “The Induction, line 539. 31 “The Induction, line 540. 32 “The Induction, line 540.

33 “The Induction, line 544. 34 “The Induction, line 548.

35 “The Induction, lines 535, 553. 36 “The Induction, line 115. 37 “The Complaint, lines 542, 568-616, 715-728. 38 Paul Bacquet, in Un contemporaln d 1Elisabeth I (Geneva, 1966), pp. 185-lB’S, points out a number of possible sources for this figure: Criseyde in Trollus and Crlseyde, IV, 753; Elizabeth lamenting the death of the little princes (Hall, p. 379); and Jocasta in Seneca's Oedipus, lines 1028- 1032. Bacquet's study of Sackville's sources (pp. 177-198), Impressive for its thoroughness, draws together most of the scholarly commentary upon these poems.

39 Cf. “The Complaint," lines 199-210, 313-315. 40 This common lament topic was most common In the Senecan drama, which had considerable influence on Sackville. On this topic, see Wolfgang Clemen, English Tragedy before Shake­ speare (London, 1961), pp. 23B-2*K). 41 This figure also derives from the Aeneld, but Sack­ ville probably remembered Surrey's translation of IV, 359- 361: Aeneas with vision striken down Well nere bestraught, vpstart his heare for dread; Amid his throtal his voice likewise gan stick. 1U6

k2 Cf. "The Induction," line 232, and "The Induction," line 2*1-8, "The Complaint," line 591; “The Induction," line 236, and "The Induction," line 95. See also the effects of fear and guilt in "The Complaint," lines 199-210. ^3 The behavior of Revenge recalls the behavior of many Senecan heroes and also the Furies in Book IV of the Aeneld, in Virgil*s Works, trans. J. W. Mackail (New York, 195o), PP. 7^-75.

Cf. "The Complaint," lines 3^5, 717.

1*5 Cf. "The Complaint," lines 385. 391-392. 1*6 See Chapter II, pp. 75-77. 47 Bacquet (pp. I89-I90) notes the particular verbal debt to Lydgate's Fall of Princes, III, 207-210, but also indicates justly that the conception was common in the moralities and emblems. A8 Cf. "The Induction," line 253 and line 27*K

1*9 Cf. Poverty's mantle in The Romaunt of the Rose, lines 457-^61. 50 Cf. Famine's violence in "The Induction," lines 3*f6- 371. 51 Cf. Seneca's Hercules Furens. lines 137-138, for a possible source. 52 The conception of Sleep as a relative of Death is as old as Western literature, but Sackville may also have had Holbein's Les slmulachres de la mort (Lyon, 1538) for a visual remihderT See iienry Green. Shakespeare and the Emblem Writers; An Exposition of their Similarities of Thought and Expression (London, 187(77, pp. **69-^70. 53 Cf. Lydgate, Fall of Princes. I, 3^21-3*1-23. 147

54 See lines 730-731 particularly.

55 King Lear. V, ill, 313-315 56 Malady is apparently almost wholly Sackville's concep­ tion, expanded upon the original in Virgil and Douglas’ trans­ lation of Virgil. See Bacquet, p. 186.

57 Famine draws her force more from Senecan Furies and Envy than from the Aeneid. 58 When Buckingham suddenly re-enacts his beheading, cf. 11 The Complaint,” lines 540 ff.

59 Sackville often resorts to very simple formulas in introducing these figures. After Remorse, "Next sawe we Dread” (line 232); ”And next. . . / Sate fell Reuenge” (lines 239-240); ”Miserie. . . next appered in sight” (line 252); "And by and by, an other shape apperes / Of Greedy care” (lines 270-271); "By him lay Heauy slepe” (line 281); "And next in order sad Olde age we found” (line 295); "And fast by him pale Maladie was plaste” (line 337); the transition between Malady and Famine is a little more complicated: But oh the doleful sight that then we see, We tumde our looke and on the other side A grlesly shape of Famine mought we see. (lines 344-346) But the transition from Death to War is once again simple: "Lastly stoode Warre. . .” (line 386). 60 See, for example, "Fortune and her Wheel” from Lydgate's The Siege of Troy, MS Royal 18 Dii (reprinted in Famham, ffiie Medieval Heritage of Elizabethan Tragedy £Oxford, 19633. facing p. 16)” Fortune appear" with "snaky heare” on fo. cxliii of the 1554 edition of Lydgate's The Falles of Princes (reprinted in Lily B. Campbell, Shakespeare«s Tragic Heroes QNew York, 19633* facing p. 5). 61 The heroes Darius, Alexander, Hannibal, Scipio, Pompey, Caesar, Sulla, Marius, Cyrus, Tomyrus, and Xerxes whirl by in less than five stanzas (lines 405-^31). The mentioning of the cities Thebes and Tyre, treated in lines 405-431, provides 148 a natural transition to the much fuller treatment of Troy. 62 Sackville's elaboration recalls Quintilian's demonstra­ tion of how one should expand upon the simple statement, "the town was stormed," to make the idea more weighty and vivid (Instltutlo oratorla, VIII, li, 67 ff.). 63 See Chapter III, p. 102, While Douglas Bush, in Mythology and the Renaissance Tradition in English Poetry (New York, 1963), p. 62, finds Sackville's treatment of these allegorical figures less sublime than Virgil's much more economical handling of them, the different purposes behind the descent into Hell accounts for some of this difference. 64 The de oontemptu mundi tradition was still a strong force in the mid-sixteenth century, as Farnham's discussion (The Medieval Heritage of Elizabethan Tragedy, pp. 54-61) revears, and it obviously exerted a considerable influence upon these portraits.

65 Particularly in the cases of Cyrus and Tomyrus ("The Complaint," lines 85-98), Alexander and Clitus ("The Complaint," lines 134-168), and Phereus ("The Complaint," lines 290-322). See Chapter II, pp. 66-67. 66 Since the notation "The description of midnight" appears in the margin of the manuscript (Marguerite Hearsey, The Complaint of Henry Duke of Buckingham. . . , p. 80), these stanzas may represent a separate composition, as Bacquet suggests (p. 201). However, the juxtaposition of tone produces a striking emotional effect. 67 Jane Shore's curse upon Richard is paltry when compared to Buckingham's curse upon Banaster. See Tragedy 25, lines 323-326, in The Mirror, pp. 384-385. 68 Iri English Tragedy before Shakespeare: The Development of Dramatic Speech tLondon. 1961). pp. 225-252. "Wolfgang Clemen catalogs several major topoi and demonstrates their repeated appearance in the drama including Gorboduc. 69 This combines several topoi: "The Appeal to the Elements" (Clemen, pp. 233-23^); "The 'Lugete-Topos*" (Clemen, pp. 232-233; and the invocation Itself. 149

70 “Invocation to Furies,11 Clemen, pp. 243-24-6. 71 Aphthonius, "The Progymnasmata of Aphthonius in Trans­ lation," trans. Bay Nadeau, Speech Monographs, XIX (1952), 271. 72 Aphthonius, 275. 73 Aphthonius, 271. 74 Buckingham contrasts the condition of Banaster's fore­ bears (Vituperation topic) to the latter1s improved fortune (Vituperation topic) to indicate Banaster's debt to him. 75 Sackville would have found the pitiful facts about Banaster's later life in Hall1s Chronicle (London, 1809), p. 395. though Sackville may have known the descriptions of Banaster and his children in the first of two ballads printed in Thomas Evans, Old Ballads, Historical and Nar­ rative , III (London, 1810V. 76 The rejection of mercy is the penultimate topic of the Aphthonian Commonplace (Aphthonius, 271). Chapter V

CONCLUSION

Thomas Sackville's contributions to The Mirror for Magistrates received within The Mirror itself higher praises than did any of the other poems within the collection. After Sackville*s two poems had been read, Baldwin described the reaction of the auditors:

How like you this my malsters (quoth I?) very wel said one: The tragedy excelleth: the inuencion also of the induction, and the discriptions are notable.1

Those praises are echoed by Sackville*s contemporaries through the rest of that century and even through this century. While much of that praise might be considered simply fawning upon a powerful and affluent man,^ both Sidney-^ and Spenser^ pay higher compliments by imitating portions of Sackville's verse. Thus Sackville, writing in an extremely Imitative age, became a worthy object of imitation for his contemporaries, and the worth suggested by those sixteenth-century imitations has been recognized by critics of the following centuries. In assessing Sackville's position in this tradition, critics have dwelt upon his transitional role between Chaucer

150 . 151 or Virgil and Spenser.-* On the one hand, he has been acclaimed as the first English poet to bring the classic style into the native tradition,^ Such an assessment oversimplifies the history of English prosody, but it is true that Sackville does attain a Virgllian stateliness admired by most critics. On the other hand, Sackville»s poems have a medieval flavor as well. His archaic diction, his alliterative propensities, his use of rhyme royal, and his fondness for allegory place him in the native tradition. In considering Sackville’s work and worth critics often stress his relationship to Chaucer or to Spenser and slight the relationship between. Sackville’s poems and the other works in The Mirror. Such neglect is at least partly understandable, for most of the Mirror tragedies trudge to their dreary conclusions with wretched verse and worse invention. Often one would have hoped that the contributors had heeded the poet Colllng- boume's request:

Ceas therfore Baldwyn, ceas I th£e exhort, Withdraws thy pen. . . .'

However, in considering Sackville’s manipulation of the rhetorical modes for the ends of tragedy, we must see his relationship to the more limited tradition of de caslbus tragedy and particularly to those tragedies within Baldwin’s collection. The similarities to and differences from these other tragedies will help define Sackville's conception of the role of tragedy. 152

In handling the logos of "The Complaint,” Sackville shares a number of features with his co-contributors. Each of the tragedies in the 15&3 edition is boldly didactic; in each of the tragedies the subject presents himself as a warning to others and instructs Baldwin to convey his story Q with the appropriate moral. While each of the poems contains some sententla, "The Complaint of Henry Duke of Buckingham" is by far the most "learned” in its analogues o and philosophizing. John Dolman*s Lord Hastings^ con­ tains a considerable amount of learned philosophizing, too, including a notable commentary upon the dream in Chaucer*s Nuns Priests Tale,10 but Dolman does not use so great a number of historical figures nor does he order them with such skill as Sackville orders his. More often the con­ tributors to The Mirror are content to deliver their politi­ cal messages in the most abstract terms or to use a series of homely analogies to illustrate their theses. In his hand­ ling of the inartificial proofs Sackville appears intent upon reducing all of Boccaccio into one tragedy. The effects of this attempt, as we have seen, work in more than one way, for the analogues do help suggest the universality of Buck­ ingham* s experience, although they also come close to burying his own story. In handling Buckingham’s story. Sackville emphasizes the scene at the expense of the act and the agent. While this emphasis is appropriate to Buckingham’s attempts to extenuate his guilt, it makes the Duke less dynamic and less Interesting 153 an agent than the heroes of inferior poems like the rebel Jack Cade,3'1 Richard Neville,12 the surly Blacksmith,1^ or the voracious Richard III. 14 Even though Buckingham recog­ nizes his guilt, his emphasis upon the actions of Richard tempts one to overemphasize the similarity between "The 15 Complaint11 and Thomas Churchyard's "Shore's Wife." But Jane Shore blames her fall upon her weakness in yielding to all those around her and she is swept up the wheel and down it by the stronger force of others, while Buckingham, after making the Initial mistake in joining Richard, errs in judgment again when he puts faith in the people to sup­ port his rebellion. However, the weakness of Buckingham as agent partially justifies C. S. Lewis* assertion that John Dolman's hero is more interesting than Buckingham.1^ Dolman, even with his opaque verse, 17 handles his agent*s situation and his relationship to other figures with con­ siderable complexity and subtlety. In the ethos of his two poems, Sackville introduces complexities beyond those in any of the other poems within the collection. In most of the other poems the ethos of the narrators is hardly distinguishable from the ethos of the agents in their tales. Thus, Baldwin and his friends can forgive the limping meter of Richard Plantagenet by appealing to decorumj "it were agaynst the decorum of his personage to vse eyther good I'eter or order." Also, the rude style of the Blacksmith is justified because of his low station.^ One might expect, but does not find, a 154 similar comment after Tragedy 23, ’’Howe Collingboume was cruelly executed for making a foolishe rime,” in which the speaker closes his extended analogy between the poet and Pegasus with the bathetic:

He must be swyft when touched tyrants chafe, To gallop thence to kepe his carkas safe.^0

Sackville’s poems need no defense for such nonsense. How­ ever, there is a troubling disparity between the agent Buckingham, who appeared relatively frail in action, and the narrator Buckingham, who appears a master of oratory. To these are added, as seen by the Narrator, a third Bucking­ ham, who is attired and behaving like a traditional figure of sorrow, and a fourth, who delivers the awe-inspiring curse upon Banaster, The juxtaposition of and varying relation­ ships between these four Buckinghams provide a basis for some of the more ’’dramatic” moments in the two poems, particu­ larly at the end of Buckingham’s story. While John Dolman’s Hastings as agent is handled with greater complexity than Sackville’s Buckingham, Dolman, after employing the same breaking off of the story before the conclusion of the tragedy, fails to dramatize Hastings in the way that Sack­ ville dramatizes Buckingham. These sudden, but controlled, shifts in Sackville’s poems prefigure the Irrationalities of heroes of the great tragedies at the end of the century. Yet in Buckingham there are only faint glimmerings of the more 155 powerful and passionate tragic heroes. These irrationalities, which are attacks upon the emotions of the audience, are a part of the pathos of '•The Induction'* and **The Complaint.*' In controlling the readers' responses to vividly rendered scenes within his poems, Sackville found an invaluable device in the dream vision framework. Yet he reshaped it to give his poems a coherence and clarity in blending classical and medieval traditions, and through the naive Narrator he is able to make the reader experience as well as see the truth. This frame, which was not used by the other contributors, is of inestimable value as an artistic device, for it gives Sackville a much greater range than the other poets had. But perhaps most notable Is Sackville's choice of a guide. While Lydgate had brought Fortuna to Bochas in Book VI of the Fall of Princes, Sackville employs the goddess Sorrow. This shift In interest from the cause to the effect— even if only half of the full effect— indicates an important change in the conception of tragedy. Instead of simply presenting a didactic warning to the audience, tragedy, in Sackville's hands, becomes also an emotional and aesthetic experience. NOTES TO CHAPTER V

1 The Mirror, p. 346.

2 One might suspect that some of the more extravagant praises were motivated by desire for preferment. Spenser*s praise of Sackville in one of the dedicatory sonnets pre­ fixed to The Faerie Queene (The Complete Poetical Works of Spenser, ed!. k, E. Nell Dodge |_Cambridge, Mass., 19o8J7 pp. 142-1.43) might strike a modem reader as excessive: In vain I thlhke, right honourable Lord, By this rude time to memorize thy name, Whose learned Muse hath writ her owne record In golden verse, worthy immortal Fame: Thou much more fit (were leasure to the same) Thy gracious Soverains praises to compile, And her imperiall majestie to frame In loftie numbers and heroicke stile. But slth thou maist not so, give leave a while To baser wit his power therein to spend, Whose grosse defaults thy daintie pen may file, And unadvised oversights amend. But evermore vouchsafe it to malntaine Against vile Zoilus backbitings valne. Yet Spenser*s imitations of Sackville indicate the sincerity of his praise. See note 4 below.

3 Michel Poirier notes that Sidney’s Sonnet 39 of Astrophel and Stella echoes Sackville’s description of Sleep in ’'The Induction.*' See Poirier's edition, Astrophel et Stella (Paris, 1957), PP. 26, 200. 4 Numerous critics have noted the similarities between Sackville’s journey to the underworld and similar journeys in The Faerie Queene, I, v, 32-35; II, vli, 21-22; IV, i, 20. But Spenser echoes Sackville more definitely in the Januarye

156 157 and Februarle eclogues of The Shepheardes Calender, Regard­ ing the former, Douglas Bush, in nls Mythology and the Renals- sance Tradition in English Poetry (New iork, 1963)» P» 60, n. has noted similarities herween lines 1, 5. 13» 16-17 of The Induction and lines 19, 24, 31» 35 of Spenser*s poem. Regarding Februarie, Emile Legouis (in Hlstolre de la liter­ ature anglalse, pp. 223-224, cited by Paul Bacquet In Un ooniemporaln 3 .1 Ellsabeth jE [[Geneva, 1966"], p. 315) has noted even closer parallels between lines 25-28, 222-225 and Sack­ ville's opening description of winter.

5 Cf. W. W. Skeat, Specimens of English Literature, 3rd ed. (Oxford, 1880), pp. 281-282; George Salntsbury. History of Elizabethan Literature (New York, 1927), p. 11; John W. "Sunliffe, Mirror for Magistrates,” CHEL, III, ix (New York, 1933)♦ p. 226* C. F. Tucker Brooke In A Literary Histo­ ry of England, ed. Albert C. Baugh (New YorkT 1948), p. 399; J7 'SwartT Thomas Sackville (Groningen, 1949), p. 135; and Paul Bacquet, tin contemporain d*Ellsabeth I (Geneva. 1966), p. 314. 6 ¥. J. Courthope's claim that "Of the epic poets of England if Chaucer is the first to exhibit the genuinely classic spirit, Sackville is the first to write in the classic manner" (History of English Poetry London, 1887, Vol. II p. 125) Ignores tKe medievalism of both poets. 7 Tragedy 23, lines 52-53. in The Mirror, p. 349. 8 To this Sackville's Buckingham is an exception since he addresses the poet instead of the editor. John Skelton's Edward IV (in Tragedy 19) offers himself as an illustration of the futility of earthly existence and concludes each stanza with the haunting refrain, "Et ecce nunc in pulvere dormlo." but, naturally enough, he does not acLdress Baldwin. 9 Tragedy 21. 10 Lines 265 ff., in The Mirror, p. 265 f.

Tragedy 12. 12 Tragedy 16. This selection is hardly a tragedy at all 158

except in the simplest sense of tracing the career and demise of a great man, who thought what he did was right, Warwick does not suffer; he merely is killed. Nor does he complain against Fortune's injustice; she is merely inoonstant. The poem closes with what is perhaps the grandest non sequitur ln Mirror: Warwick tells Baldwin to warn his readers against courting the people, though his doing so did not cause his fall. He also adds that others should behave essentially as he did and thus avoid his misfortune. 13 Tragedy 27. 14 Tragedy 24.

15 Tragedy 25. Willard Famham, in The Medieval Herltage of Elizabethan Tragedy (Oxford, 1963), pp. £91-294, asserts "tEat both poems share in reducing the source of tragedy to mere mutability. But Buckingham does recognize the justice in his fall. 16 C. S, Lewis, English Literature in the Sixteenth Centu- ry (Oxford, 1954), p. 244. 17 In commenting upon this tragedy "one of Baldwin's group sayd it was very darke, and hard to be vnderstood" (The Mirror, p. 297). 18 The Mirror, p. 371 19 The Mirror, p. 419.

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