Arcadia. Sir Philip Sidney

what the 1593 title page calls The Countess of Pembroke’s Arcadia.

      A Note on This Edition

      Sidney’s Arcadia is a complex mixture of prose and verse told in language that uses the full resources of rhetoric, figures of speech, metaphors, and balanced words and phrases. As such it has become like an old picture whose beauty is hidden by layers of grime. It has grown dim to our eyes. It needs restoration. But the Arcadia is also a work of genius. One hesitates to touch a syllable, to change a word, to alter the syntax of a sentence so as not to disturb some hidden beauty or lost meaning. Twentieth-century editors have modernized punctuation and spelling for Shakespeare and even the King James Bible. Arcadia needs such touching up, and more. There are so many places, from the first page on, where you cannot read without re-reading, where the sense is lost, or all seems dark. Trying to recompose sentences into modern English, one cannot help thinking how much of the Arcadia has simply never been read.

      Part of the problem is that Sidney conveyed ideas, but not necessarily in sentences as we know them. Today most English sentences convey a single idea. Sidney wrote rapidly and at length, with little or no punctuation, often signaling the beginning of a new train of thought with But. In his letters (there are no manuscripts of Arcadia in his own hand) he often wrote the word as B/. To add to the confusion, the word often means nothing more than “and.” Quotation marks were unknown until the eighteenth century. Hence Sidney often starts a quote with a word or two and then “said he” before continuing. It gets annoying.

      Another problem is that Sidney also overuses passive constructions and weak verbs like “to be” and “to have” in all their forms. He made frequent use of litotes, a double negative, as in the phrase “being a man of no few words.” Far too often he uses the wordy phrase “as it were” to signal a metaphor. Modifiers dangle. Tenses shift. Some verbs have no subjects. And all the while participles extend the Arcadia’s lengthy prose periods. In the first sentence of Book 1, for example, the sun is running while Strephon is viewing and casting his eyes and setting down in his countenance what he would say. He remembers the nourishing beauty of Urania and worries about his languishing remembrance of her. Sidney sentences often start with a pronoun or proper name followed by a participial phrase, as in “There she sat, vouchsafing my cloak (then most gorgeous) under her” before going on to designate a hill or slope as a “rising of the ground.” These constructions occur because Sidney used the –ing form for continuous action verbs and also to form adjectives and nouns. The style was typical for mid-sixteenth century England, when Thomas Wilson in his Art of Rhetoric (1553) could call a conclusion a “lapping up.”

      Contemporary versions of Shakespeare are filled with subtle changes to help actors and audiences. To take one example, Al Pacino, who plays Shylock in the 2004 film version of The Merchant of Venice, regularly substitutes modern English for Shakespeare’s words. He says “informed your grace” for “possessed your grace,” “human flesh” for “carrion flesh,” “by a rat” for “with a rat,” “master of passion” for “mistress of passion,” “this losing suit” for “a losing suit.” Sidney’s Arcadia deserves as much, and probably even more, as in this passage on the good government of King Euarchus (whose name means good ruler, as something euphonius has a pleasing sound):

      And therefore, where most Princes (seduced by flatterie to builde upon false grounds of government) make themselves (as it were) an other thing from the people; and so count it gaine what they get from them: and (as if it were two counter-ballances, that their estate goes hiest when the people goes lowest) by a fallacie of argument thinking themselves most Kinges, when the subiect is most basely subiected: He contrariwise, vertuouslie and wisely acknowledging, that he with his people made all but one politike bodie, whereof himselfe was the head; even so cared for them, as he would for his owne limmes: never restrayning their libertie, without it stretched to licenciousnes, nor pulling from them their goods, which they found were not imployed to the purchase of a greater good: but in all his actions shewing a delight in their wellfare, brought that to passe, that while by force he tooke nothing, by their love he had all.

      Our version sacrifices some of the rhythm, diction, and syntax of the original for clarity:

      Most princes, seduced by flattery, build upon false grounds of government and consider themselves as if they are another thing from the people. They count as their gain what they get from the people. By a fallacy of argument, they think themselves most kingly when their subjects are most basely subjected. Like a counter-balance, as it were, their estate goes highest when the people go lowest.

      King Euarchus held the contrary view. He virtuously and wisely acknowledged that together he and his people made but one politic body, of which he was the head. He cared for them as he would care for his own limbs and never restrained their liberty, except when it stretched to licentiousness. Nor did he pull from them their goods, except where he employed them to purchase a greater good. In all his actions, he showed a delight in their welfare and brought it to pass that that while he took nothing by force, by their love he had all.

      As the example shows, we have been sparing in moving words around, except in those places where phrases squint in several directions or re-reading is necessary to make sense of a passage. Elsewhere, when characters are speaking in stressful situations, Sidney’s suitably jumpy syntax has been retained. Long sentences that imitate a sequence of physical actions deserve a restorer’s respect. We have tried to stay as close to the original text as possible because Sidney’s rhetorical medium is part of his message. But our intention has been to make the 1593 text accessible, not to remain slavishly tied to inessentials at the cost of clarity. A translator, including one translating from English to English, has an obligation to be clear, and this obligation extends to syntax because reading is a sequential act. Anything that forces the reader backwards works against the intention of the author. Phrases that seem to go with the wrong words may be moved to bring referent and modifier close together for the reader’s convenience. Often the most complex sentences can be made clear by replacing pronouns with proper names, something any translator of a foreign language into English will do to avoid confusion. Sentence structure, repetitious syntax, the use of participial and correlative constructions, and passive verbs need not be left untouched, any more than spelling and punctuation. A word can be saved by changing did see to saw. It often makes sense to remove unnecessary negatives.

      The second person pronominal forms thou, thee, thy, and thine were disappearing in Sidney’s lifetime. Shakespeare uses them as well as endings in –eth (hath, doth) deliberately to add formality to his plays. After much debate and despite objections from undergraduates, we retain “thou” and its forms. “Thou” can be found in Hemingway when he imitates Spanish or French. And Sidney’s usage is exact. “Thou” indicates familiarity or inferiority, except when a character is in an excited state or for special emphasis. Pyrocles addresses his social inferior Philanax as “thou” while Philanax uses the respectful “you.” Pyrocles switches to “you” when he agrees to be arrested, as they are then equals (4.5). Young Strephon uses both forms when passionately addressing his elder Claius. The distinction seems significant enough for us to leave these pronouns alone.

      Sidney’s poems present a different set of problems for restoration. If left intact, they threaten our goal of making the 1593 edition that Shakespeare read available to a global audience. But it is often impossible to modernize or move a word without destroying the integrity of the lyric line. Our solution has been to respect the iconic aspect of the poems, to leave their language untouched, but to use footnotes and extensive punctuation to make it as easy as possible to follow their thought. Fortunately, Sidney is a very dramatic poet, by which we mean that his poems were written for particular characters in particular situations in the story. Often the lovers are signaling their true identities beneath their disguises, Musidorus as a shepherd and Pyrocles as an Amazon. Everything is in iambic pentameter, except where noted. The most difficult poem, written in quantitative meter, is Musidorus’ long elegiac lament to Pamela to pardon him for kissing her (3.1). It proved no less challenging in a prose summary. Left as it is, at least you can sing it, as Edward Plough, who has composed contemporary musical settings for each poem, explains in an appendix to this edition.

      Though it may not seem obvious from the quantity