Barbara Brumbaugh provides a bold interpretation of Sir Philip Sidney's 1590 Arcadia as an "apocalyptic allegory" focusing on "debates on church reform and other religio-political issues specific to Sidney's Elizabethan culture" (3). By situating Sidney's work within a rich Reformation discourse that interpreted the Book of Revelation as prophesying the emergence of and threats to Renaissance Protestantism, Brumbaugh argues for a "unified pattern in Sidney's revisions" that transformed the original pastoral romance into an epic allegory of church history (3-4).
In her introduction, Brumbaugh challenges two assumptions about the New Arcadia commonly made by Sidney scholars: 1) "it shows little or no sustained concern with religious issues, let alone ones specific to Christianity or Protestantism" (1); and 2) the work is "structurally incoherent and thematically un-unified" (38), especially compared to the original draft. However, Brumbaugh argues that "a politicized allegorical church history provides the central unifying structural principle in the revised Arcadia" (4). After briefly addressing reasons why modern readers of Sidney have not recognized this historical allegory, she spends much of the introduction exploring why Sidney would have included it in the first place. First, she proposes that Sidney more closely aligns his revised text with conventions of the epic tradition by including a "lengthy retrospective narrative" that can be read allegorically, specifically, the "heroes' adventures in Asia Minor" from Book 2 (8). Second, Sidney was influenced by widespread sixteenth-century accounts of the Book of Revelation as prophesying the Protestant Reformation. Finally, such an allegory was consistent with Sidney's goals, articulated in the Apology for Poetry, to move readers to virtuous--and, in this case, Protestant--action.
Chapter 1 provides the foundation for much of the literary analysis that follows by demonstrating the ways in which Protestant exegetes interpreted Revelation as a prophecy of church history, with the pope and Church of Rome as Antichrist and Protestantism as the True Church. Following Katherine Firth, Brumbaugh stresses the sequencing of apocalyptic images from Revelation: "it is essential to my argument that the apocalyptic images in the Asia Minor narratives and the opening pages of the revised Arcadia appear in the same relative chronological sequence in Sidney's narrative as would the corresponding images from Revelation" (49). Brumbaugh maintains that the "clustering" and "chronological sequencing" of Sidney's apocalyptic images seem purposeful parallels that support her thesis (67). Turning to the exegesis itself, Brumbaugh explores how "even minute details" or "seemingly casual descriptive details" in Revelation are used by commentators to "justify and uphold their own political and theological interpretations of the Apocalypse" (52-53). For example, she draws attention to how the "mighty angel" in Revelation 10 becomes associated with increased literacy and the printing press, while the two witnesses in Revelation 11 are recurring stand-ins for Wycliffe and Hus, or for Protestant martyrs more generally. As a whole, the chapter deftly synthesizes historical research and introduces the reader to a fascinating body of primary sources.
Chapters 2 and 3 apply the context from the first chapter to develop an allegorical reading of the Arcadia's Asia Minor narratives: "allegorically, Sidney's heroes travel through church history as they travel through Asia Minor" (87). In Chapter 2, Brumbaugh argues that Andromana, Plexirtus, and the pair of Zelmane and Palladius represent Revelation's Whore of Babylon, the Antichrist, and the two witnesses, respectively. In Chapter 3, she shows that Pyrocles and Musidorus overcome various enemies and obstacles in ways that recall how early Christianity overcame opponents like the Roman emperors. Throughout these chapters, Brumbaugh reiterates that the chronological sequencing of the apocalyptic images, which matches the account in Revelation, is crucial to her argument. The larger pattern bolsters analysis of specific examples. However, there are several instances when the argument seems more strained or elides important differences between Sidney's romance and the Protestant biblical exegesis. For example, Brumbaugh compares the dagger that kills Andromana to the "sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God" that is necessary to kill the Antichrist (98). As Brumbaugh notes, though, Andromana commits suicide with that dagger, which would be a significant departure from Renaissance discourse on Revelation. The disparity by no means debunks Brumbaugh's claim, but further exploration of the nuances of the intertextual relationship might have been fruitful.
Subsequent chapters extend Brumbaugh's allegorical reading of Arcadiato other aspects of the revision beyond the Asia Minor narrative. Chapter 4 draws out connections between Urania and the Mighty Angel of Revelation 10, while the shepherds Strephon and Claius (unlike Dametas) epitomize a "clerical ideal" shared by Mantuan and English Reformers and characterized by "godly learning and freedom from financial avarice" (193). Chapter 5 places allusions to Revelation commentaries alongside those to the Song of Solomon and reveals an intriguing pattern in allegorical characterization: "Sidney seems to have been interested in creating Old Testament/New Testament partners in friendship [...] but usually same-testament lovers" (237). Chapter 6 moves even further from Protestant exegesis of Revelation to argue that the revised Arcadiapositions Kalendar as an allegorical figure for Erasmus, who both paved the way for Reformation and ultimately refused to support the movement.
Chapters 7 and 8 focus on how Sidney uses the characters of Cecropia and her son Amphialus to "comment [...] upon contemporary religious disputes" (288). More specifically, Cecropia becomes associated with Catholic beliefs and practices like the Mass, while her family history reflects the history of the Roman Church in England. In complementary fashion, the characterization of Amphialus echoes zealous Protestant critiques of the Church of England as being only half-reformed, as seen especially in his courtship of Philoclea. He is idolatrous not only in a Petrarchan sense, as critics have recognized, but also in his allegorical affinities with "papist doctrine and ceremonies" (327), which contribute to "an increasingly more tormented conscience" (350). Chapter 9 argues that Sidney's representation of Queen Helen initially seems complimentary of Queen Elizabeth, but only in order to veil criticisms of her for not reforming the Church of England even more thoroughly after Mary Tudor's reign.
In her ambitious tenth and final chapter, Brumbaugh explains Sidney's revision process and the resulting allegory of Church history in terms of genre. Specifically, she links the book's Asia Minor narratives to dynastic epics, and she describes the book's abrupt ending as "an apocalyptic drama in which the conclusion is deliberately omitted in the expectation that Christ will soon supply the catastrophe to all action with the Second Coming" (401). The chapter is brimming with insightful analysis and provocative parallels. By comparing the Asia Minor stories with Aeneas's travel to the underworld--both occurring at the center of their respective works--Brumbaugh underscores these episodes as "a broad vision of the futurities of entire people," with the Protestant faith supplanting the nation of Rome (415). Her discussion of Pyrocles's captivity in Book 3 positions Sidney's Arcadia as a precursor to Milton's Paradise Lost in his Christian revision of conventional epic heroism. Indeed, Brumbaugh repeatedly makes compelling connections between Sidney, classical epic, and religious writing. The Song of Solomon and Virgil's Aeneid provide touchstones for the "dawn scene" (445), in which the mourning Pyrocles responds with passion to an unrecognized Philoclea, while Pyrocles's final fights with Anaxius and his brothers recall climactic epic combats and Erasmus's Enchiridion Militis Christiani. The chapter loses some steam by the end, but it allows the author to end on a strong note overall.
Brumbaugh highlights a Reformation allegory in Sidney's New Arcadia, but the book lacks discussion of major modern theories of allegory to help describe it. There are cursory nods to Rosemond Tuve and Angus Fletcher, but the book lacks any mention of Walter Benjamin, Paul de Man, Gordon Teskey, or many other figures who scholars of allegory might expect to encounter. As a result, Brumbaugh provides thorough discussion of specific allegorical elements, but little theorization of allegory to suggest how this discussion could be applied elsewhere. This limits the scope of the argument beyond a reading of the revisedArcadia.
Although the volume of primary sources and the length of Sidney's literary work itself justify extensive discussion, a reader may start to feel bogged down by certain parts of the book's ten chapters (plus an introduction). The archival research on display is truly impressive, but several later chapters stray from the Revelation exegesis. When the apocalyptic context fades into the background, the second half of the book sometimes feels like a broader series of arguments about Protestantism in the revised Arcadia--however interesting those arguments may be. For this reason, many scholars may choose to focus on specific chapters, rather than reading the book from cover to cover. Even so, Brumbaugh provides a provocative new interpretation of theNew Arcadia that will be of interest to any Sidney scholar.