In its day, Yong’s translation Diana found favour. It was among the illustrious company of
translations in Ben Jonson’s library[1];
but perhaps the strongest proof of its popularity, and of the standing of Diana as the pastoral novel par excellence, was the size of Yong’s
contribution to Englands Helicon.[2] Yong was the most heavily represented
author in this pastoral anthology (1600; and in the 2nd edition,
1614) with 25 poems, followed by Sidney (15) and Lodge (14).[3] He was severely criticised a hundred
years ago by A.H. Bullen, who could not understand his inclusion in this
selection,[4]
unless he were “a close friend of the indulgent editor.”[5] Despite the weaknesses of Bullen’s
animadversions – one of which was a reference to Yong’s “unpoetical name”! –
his remarks were highly influential.
Around the same time,
Yong’s efforts have occasionally found praise. The Bibliotheca Anglo-Poetica (1815) remarked: “Montemayor’s pastoral of Diana is beautiful; it is in prose, but mingled with a considerable quantity of poetry by Yong, the merits of which are not sufficiently known.”[9] In 1849, George Ticknor considered his translation of Diana to be excellent, and wrote of “its happy versions of the poetry of Montemayor.”[10] Writing in the 1890s, Hugo A. Rennert praised Yong’s prose – “It is an excellent translation, though not always so happy in turning the verse into English”[11] – and James Fitzmaurice-Kelly labelled Yong’s text an “excellent version.”[12] The author of ‘Three Phases of Pastoral Sentiment’ in the Edinburgh Review of April 1905[13] quotes (evidently with approval) ll. 61-75 of ‘O eies, that see not him’ and the first four quatrains of ‘Shepherd, who can passe such wrong,’[14] a poem that was warmly commended – for its metre, not for its poetry – by George Saintsbury.[15] Walter W. Greg gave guarded praise in 1906, claiming that Yong represented the one exception to the negligible translations of pastoral romances.[16] Henry Thomas, who published what remained of Thomas Wilson’s translation in 1920,[17] asserted that Yong’s translations add little to English poetry, but that the responsibility for this lay largely with the originals, which expressed no lofty sentiments and were incidental to the story.[18] The 1926 editor of Fiammetta, Edward Hutton, considered Yong to be a careful and faithful translator, and he praised the colour and conceits, the melody and stateliness, of his rich and rhythmic prose.[19] He also made reference to an article by T.P. Harrison in the Modern Language Review of that year, entitled ‘Bartholomew Yong, Translator,’ which provided biographical facts about this previously shadowy figure.[20] Hyder E. Rollins, who edited Englands Helicon in 1935, offered a more measured approach to criticism than his Victorian predecessor; his remark that Yong is “certainly not inferior to the general run of Elizabethan verse translators,” and his mollifying statement that Yong’s contributions are translations, on a par with those of Sidney from Diana,[21] suggests that one should approach translated verse with lower expectations and greater tolerance. The other editor of this anthology, Hugh MacDonald, found the items under Yong’s name to be of varying merit (1962, p. xx).
In 1959, the publication of Yong’s translation of Gil Polo[22] suggested a revival of interest; however, the few critical remarks bestowed on him during the early-to-mid 1960s are not favourable: he is accused of a failure to use periphrasis, and of lacking figurative language, by a critic who has not read his Diana and is judging from the context of Englands Helicon[23]; and he is criticised for attempting to reproduce both the content and the external form of his originals.[24]
His reputation was slightly restored by Judith M. Kennedy’s 1968 edition of his translation,[25] leading one critic to claim that The Diana of George of Montemayor had become a classic Tudor Translation[26]; however, the reviewers of this edition tended to concentrate on Montemayor or the editor rather than on the translator.[27] They do, to their credit, make the valid criticism that Kennedy does not include Yong’s translation of Pérez’s sequel.[28] She makes the point that this sequel is universally recognised to be a text of little value[29]; indeed, it has been almost relegated to the category of ‘spurious sequel.’[30] One senses that she does not trust Yong’s translation of this part, but believes that its inclusion would weaken her case for a revaluation of an unjustly neglected figure. Once again, the translator is at the mercy of the original author; if the latter produces an inferior text, the assumption is that there can be no translation of this text of any real worth. Even if Kennedy did not feel this herself, she was probably conscious of the number of critics who do ride this slow train of thought, and so she chose the route of slightest resistance. Although the major criticism levelled against Pérez’s work – that he fails to assimilate the various elements into a controlled unity[31] – is perfectly justified, the inferiority of the text does not deny it an afterlife. It is still endowed with suggestive ability; for example, it is known that Book Six of The Faerie Queene demonstrates the influence, in its characters and incidents, of Pérez’s novel.[32] There is no reason why this generative potential should not apply to translations, or why the reader should be debarred access to Yong’s version. Furthermore, if we wish to study Yong as a translator, it is surely of benefit to pay attention to every text that he translated into English, otherwise we are painting an incomplete picture. As we shall discover later, there is one important aspect of his technique that would be overlooked if we did not turn our thoughts to his version of the Segunda Parte de la Diana.
One is not likely to find much attention paid to Yong by Spanish (or, indeed, Portuguese) critics; in this respect, he suffers the fate of the majority of translators. Those who write about Montemayor or Gil Polo are perfectly content to state that their works have been translated into other languages, but the implication is that this is simply a reflection on the quality of the original. There is a certain pride inherent in the fact of being translated; the quality of the actual translation is considered to be of no moment. Much is made of the inspiration Diana gave to Sidney and Honoré d’Urfé, but precious little mention is made of Yong.[33]
Finally, one may consider turning to
secondary literature on
There is no extended comment, and no real depth
of analysis. How are we to
reconcile such contradictory pronouncements? The first factor to take into account is
the nature of the original text, in particular its ‘feminine’ qualities. It is not our intention to add another
section to the Great Wall of Gender, for the site is already overcrowded, the
din of the confusion of tongues is deafening, and we do not understand the
language: someone please call a translator! However, the facts cannot be avoided
that the pastoral, like the chivalric romance, was associated with a female
readership, that this was especially true of Montemayor, that Diana was
popular with the ladies of the Elizabethan Court, and that Yong’s modern editor
– like Montemayor’s modern translator into English – are female.
Yet there are other reasons, and for these we must consider matters of translation. Literary works are subject to the winds of fashion, which blow varying concepts of what literature should be; translations, however, are affected by both these winds and those that gust differing conceptions of the role and the nature of translation. Critical reticence is explained in part by doubt: critics are unsure of their ability to judge a translated text in a language other than their mother tongue. Furthermore, even when evaluating a translation into their first language, the criteria on which judgement is based are uncertain: hence the contradictory views on the merits of Yong’s translations, especially of his poetry. The critics are judging by varying standards – against their understanding of English poetry contemporary with Yong, or against their reading of the original. Caught on the bridge between two languages – English and Spanish – they do not know where to stand. The most reasonable criticism is that of Hugh MacDonald, with which we would concur: Yong was experimenting with metrical form, and his attempts met with varying success. It is impossible to blanket his poems with generalisations such as ‘good’ or ‘unsuccessful’; we may say, with regard to this thesis, that his best translations of poetry are to be found in his sonnets. The fact that an average translator, who is occasionally good and occasionally bad, should enjoy his greatest degree of success when attempting to re-create this genre is revealing; the guiding form of the sonnet appeals not only to dilettante poets, but also to translators.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
- Judith M. KENNEDY (ed.), A Critical Editon of Yong’s Translation of
Montemayor’s Diana and Gil Polo’s Enamoured Diana (Oxford: Clarendon Press,
1968).
- Hugh MACDONALD (ed.),
- Dale B.J. RANDALL, The Golden Tapestry: A Critical Survey of
Non-Chivalric Spanish Fiction in English Translation, 1543-1657 (Durham,
N.C.: Duke University Press, 1963)
- Hyder H. ROLLINS (ed.),
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[1] The others are: Chapman’s Seven Books of the Iliad (1598) and his
complete Homer (1616); Fenton’s Guicciardini (1599); Florio’s Montaigne (1603);
Mabbe’s Celestina (1631); and
[2] Pointed out by Rollins (1935), p. 35, and Kennedy (1968), p. lvii; and somehow overlooked by earlier critics.
[3] There are still 25 poems under his name in the second edition
(1614). The ‘Author’s Index’ to
Page
No.
Incipit
A faire Mayde 93 338
(GP)
I see thee jolly Sheepheard 116 218
(M)
If to be lov’d 159 385
(GP)
Let now each Meade 136 378
(GP)
Let now the goodly 70 367
(GP)
Me thinks thou tak’st 160 386
(GP)
My life (young Shepherdess) 113 50
(M)
Neere to the River 145 60
(M)
No more (ô cruell Nymph) 107 43
(M)
Now Love and Fortune turne 149 206
(M)
O Let that time 73 370
(GP)
Passed contents 154 220
(M)
Sheepheard, who can passe 143 49
(M)
Sheepheard, why doo’st thou 141 388
(GP)
Since thou to me 161 386
(GP)
The cause why that thou 133 283
(GP)
When that I poore soule 103 199
(M)
Young Sheepheard turne 159 385 (GP)
The following are from
Yong’s translation of Pérez: E.H.
Yong 1598
Faustus
if thou wilt reade from me 156 325
I pray thee keepe my kine for me 87 326
If that the gentle winde 95 316
Neuer a greater foe did loue disdaine 125 252
Of mine owne selfe I doe complaine 130 320
Shepherds give eare and now be still 99 185
Who hath of Cupids cates and
dainties prayed 120 164
[4] T.P. Harrison, ‘Bartholomew Yong, Translator’, MLR 21 (1926), pp. 129-39 (137). “England’s Helicon … would be of sweetness all compact if some of
Bartholomew Yonge’s tiresome contributions were omitted.” –A.H. Bullen (ed.), Shorter Elizabethan Poems (Westminster:
Archibald Constable and Co., 1903), p. ix.
Harold H. Child, in The
[5] Quoted in Rollins ed. (1935), II:35.
[6]
[7] For example, in Thomas Underdowne’s Aethiopian History (1587), intro. Charles Whibley 1895, p. xxiii. This is the opinion of a critic who believes that poetry must be translated as prose.
[8] Elizabethan Lyrics (London: George G. Harrap & Co., 1966), p. 30.
[9] Bibliotheca Anglo-Poetica, a descriptive catalogue of rare English poetry, compiled by Acton Frederick Griffith (London: Thomas Davison, 1815). The quotation is taken from a newspaper cutting pasted inside the ULL copy of Yong 1598. The context is “Shakesperiana.”
[10] A History of Spanish Literature (London: John Murray, 1849), 3 Vols. The quotation is from III, p. 38. Ticknor’s scholarship may be called into question – he believes that “George of” Montemayor’s text was called Diana Enamorada and was first printed in 1542 – but this does not entail an immediate rejection of his critical judgement. What is important is to consider the criteria he employs to reach this judgement; the adjective “happy” and his praise of the beauty of Montemayor’s poetry (III, p. 40) are instructive in this regard.
[11] ‘The Spanish Pastoral Romances’ in PMLA 7:3 (1892), pp. 1-119 (p.24, fn. 41). In passing, we may note that ‘turning the verse into’ is a highly evocative phrase when restored to its literal meaning: the turn at the end of the line that lies at the etymology of ‘verse.’ The ability to ‘turn a line’ is one of the prerequisites of a poet. The re-turn journey from figurative usage – the return to origin through etymology – is often fascinating; it reminds us of the reason behind words.
[12] James Fitzmaurice-Kelly, A History of Spanish Literature (London: William Heinemann, 1898), p. 205.
[13] Vol. 201: No. 412, pp. 313-337.
[14] This latter poem appears in J. William Hebel and Hoyt H. Hudson (eds), Poetry of the English Renaissance 1509-1600 (New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts Inc., 1929; reprinted 1957), together with ‘Young shepherd, turn aside and move’ on p.201f. The date of Yong’s Diana is misprinted as 1589 on p.952.
[15] On this production of “poor abused ‘Bar. Young,’” Saintsbury writes: “Poetically, of course, it is no great thing – hardly anything at all. But the “twist” of the metre has, to my ear, a rather remarkable effect…” –A History of English Prosody from the Twelfth Century to the Present Day 3 Vols. (London: Macmillan, 1908), II:133, fn.2.
[16] Walter W. Greg, Pastoral poetry and pastoral drama (New York: Russell and Russell, 1959 [1906]): “the whole forms a not unworthy Tudor translation.” (p. 141).
[17] In Revue Hispanique L
(1920), pp. 367-418. Only the First
Book remains, in a manuscript
[18] Quoted in Rollins ed. (1935), II:36.
[19] As with many of the introductions in the ‘Tudor Translations’
series, one cannot help feeling that it is the language of the time – of
‘Shakespeare’s England’ – that the editor is praising rather than that
particular translator’s use of language.
Hence Sir Edward
Sullivan (intro. to Pettie’s
Guazzo, 2 Vols.,
[20] In 1924
[21] Rollins ed. (1935), II:36.
Gustav Ungerer (Anglo-Spanish Relations
in Tudor
[22] Diana enamorada (1564), Gaspar Gil Polo. Together with the English
translation (1598) by Bartholomew Yong; eds. Raymond L. Grismer and Mildred
B. Grismer (
[23] Dorothy Schuchman McCoy, Tradition and Innovation. A Study of Periphrasis in English Pastoral Poetry from 1557-1715 (London/The Hague/Paris: Mouton & Co, 1965), p. 31. She refers to Yong’s “wooden translations” (p.10), criticises him on pp. 30-33 and p. 52, and gives him a brief and indifferent mention on p. 140, p. 211 and p. 240 (there is no index). She refers to ‘Montemayor’s Diana Enamorada’ (sic) on p. 30.
[24] Randall (1963), p. 79. Randall considers Yong’s prose to be adequate, and his translation destined to be read only by students.
[25] That is, his reputation as a translator of poetry, rather than that of a translator of prose. –Gustav Ungerer, ‘Bartholomow Yong. Mannerist Translator of Spanish Pastoral Romances’ in ES 54 (1973), pp. 439-446 (442-443). Kennedy is, however, often uncertain about this aspect of Yong’s work: she states that the appeal of the Diana lies (less so in translation) in the poetry. –p.xxviii. Interestingly, in her article on Montemayor in the Spenser Encyclopedia (1990), she does not name Yong.
[26] Ungerer (1973), p. 439.
[27] For example, Merritt Lawlis in Shakespeare Studies 5 (1969), pp. 337-339, and H.D. Purcell in what is more of an ‘Introduction/Editor Review’ in Bulletin of Hispanic Studies 46 (1969), 250-251. An exception is Patricia O’Connell in Studies 57 (1968), pp. 342-343, who praises Yong’s “musical and delicate renderings” and “refined and polished style.” She also prints ‘Love is not blinde.’ However, it must be borne in mind that this same reviewer, on the previous page, denied the value of literary translations, claiming that they represent a mere expedient and are of value only in the study of sources.
[28] Gil Polo’s novel does form a natural progression from Montemayor’s;
they first appeared together in a Spanish edition of 1886. -La Diana de Jorge de Montemayor : seguida de
la Diana enamorada / por Gaspar Gil Polo.
[29] The earliest criticism is that of Cervantes, in Don Quixote. In the perusal of the Don’s library in
Book I, Chapter 6, the parson remarks: “Pues la del Salmantino [Pérez’s sequel]
… acompañe y acreciente el número de los condenados al corral, y la de Gil Polo
se guarde
[30] Don Quixote (‘The Licentiate Alonso Fernañdez de Avellaneda,’ 1614) and Guzman de Alfarache (Mateo Lujan de Sayavedra, 1602) provide other examples.
[31] Angel Valbuena Prat (Historia de la Literatura Española. 4 Vols. Barcelona: Gustavo Gili, 7th ed., 1964) accuses him of pedantic accumulation (I:719, fn.1). The same adjective is found in Greg (1959[1906], see Note 16), p. 59. Avalle-Arce, who actually takes the trouble to examine Pérez’s text, concludes that he fails to reconcile three currents: Montemayor’s pastoral novel; greco-latin literature; and Spanish romance literature. - La novela pastoril española (Madrid: Revista de Occidente, 1959), pp. 86-98.
[32] T.P. Harrison, ‘The Faerie Queene and the Diana’ in PQ 9 (1930), pp. 51-56.
[33] Cesar Barja, Libros y Autores Clásicos, 4th ed. (New York: Las Americas, 1964),
p. 211; Obras Completas de Shakespeare. Vol.
II. Os Dois Cavalheiros de Verona. Trábalos de Amor Perdidos. Tradução de Carlos Alberto Nunes (Rio de
Janeiro: Edições de Ouro, 1966), uses the rather meaningless term “traduzida em
várias línguas” for Montemayor [p.5].
[34] R.W. Zandvoort, Sidney’s Arcadia. A Comparison between the Two Versions (Amsterdam: N.V. Swets and Zeitlinger, 1929), p. 193. The paper was called ‘Shakspere and Euphuism. Euphues an adaptation from Guevara.’
[35] When three manuscripts of this text came to light. –William A. Ringler Jr., The Poems of Sir Philip Sidney (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1962), p. 364.
[36] For example, in Walter R. Davis’s Sidney’s Arcadia (New Haven & London: Yale University Press, 1965); he relies on Yong’s translation. In Robert Eril Levine, A Comparison of Sidney’s Old and New Arcadia (Universität Salzburg: 1974), the ‘Works consulted’ section on p.121 reads: “Montemayor, George of. ‘Diana’ ed. J.M. Kennedy.” This omission is all the more noticeable because other minor translators – William Burton, who translated Achilles Tatius’s Clitophon and Leucippe (1597), and Thomas Underdowne, who englished Heliodorus (An Aethiopian History) in 1587 – are both named.
[37] Sir Philip Sidney (Cambridge: University Press, 1977), p. 126.