--BEN JOHNSON. 1623.
SHAKESPEARE AND THE RIVAL POET.
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTORY.
DURING the past hundred years many attempts have been made at writing a life of Shakespeare. Patient research has brought to light much interesting material and many important facts which have greatly enlarged the limited knowledge of the poet's doings which was extant when Steevens wrote: "All that is known with any degree of certainty regarding Shakespeare, is -- that he was born at Stratford-upon-Avon,--married, and had children there,--went to London, where he commenced actor, and wrote poems and plays,--returned to Stratford, made his will, died, and was buried." The facts which have been added have, however, merely increased the evidence of these plain outlines, without casting much new light upon that which would best enable us to understand his works and the spirit in which he wrote, that is--his actual personality.
We do not grasp the full value of any literary work till we are enabled, by the knowledge which we have of the writer's personality, to put ourselves to some extent in his place. It is to this desire to understand thoroughly and enter into the spirit of the writer's work, and not to mere morbid curiosity, that we may impute the public demand for biographical details of popular authors.
In the works of most writers the subjectivity of their material and style reveals their point of view and shows us their actual ideas. The highest canons of dramatic art, however, demand absolute objectivity of treatment. An author's personality, introduced and plainly recognized by an audience in a drama, destroys the perspective and kills the illusion as surely as would the introduction of a Queen Anne cottage in the scenery of a Roman play.
Shakespeare, fully conscious of the demands of his art, has so effectually hidden his own personality and feelings in his work that it has come to be generally believed that they are not to be found there. Because his art is so exquisite shall we deem him an artificer who chisels puppets, instead of an artist who molds his heart and soul into form and figure? Because he does not wail like Heine and tell us that "Out of my own great woes I make my little songs," may we not by searching find him out? I am convinced that we may, and that while the investigation of moldy records and parish registers has given us some idea of how he bought and sold property, sued his debtors, etc., the real man, the poet and philosopher, lover and hater, friend and foe, may be discerned only by a critical and sympathetic study of his own works. His dramas are so artistically objective, and his individuality so carefully hidden, that this would be an almost impossible task were it not for the great autobiographical value of the Sonnets, and the side lights which the story they contain throws upon his other works.
In the Sonnets Shakespeare becomes entirely subjective; they were not meant for publication, and, looked at in a true light, are two series of poetic epistles: one to this friend, and one to this mistress.
The earliest mention we have of the Sonnets is in the year 1598, in Meres' "Palladis Tamia," where they are called, "his sugred sonnets amongst his private friends." There can be little doubt but that Meres refers to the Sonnets which we know, or, at least, to some portion of them.
In 1599 two of the sonnets, Nos. 138 and 144, appeared in a somewhat garbled form, in a collection of poems by various hands,--but all attributed to Shakespeare,--published by Wm. Jaggard, under the title of "The Passionate Pilgrim."
We have no other record of any of the Sonnets till 1609, when the whole collection, as we know them, and a poem entitled "A Lover's Complaint," were published by Thomas Thorpe with the following title-page:
"Shake-speares
sonnets.
Never before Imprinted.
At London
By G. Eld for T. T. and are
to be solde by William Aspley.
1609."
This edition was ushered to the world by Thorpe with the following dedication: "To the onlie Begetter of these insuing sonnets Mr. W. H. all hapinesse and that eternitie promised by our ever-living poet wisheth the well-wishing adventurer in setting forth. T. T." No other edition of the Sonnets appeared until the year 1640, when they were published, along with other poems purporting to be by Shakespeare, under the heading "Poems: written by Wil. Shakespeare. Gent. Printed at London by Tho. Cotes, and are to be solde by John Benson, dwelling at St. Dunstan's Churchyard. 1640." Several of the Sonnets in Thorpe's collection are omitted from this edition, and those that appear are prefixed with titles of the publisher's own invention. Whatever personal touches there may be in the Sonnets were quite lost sight of by this date. Thorpe, in his dedication, plainly recognizes their personal nature when he wishes "Mr. W. H." " that eternitie promised by our ever-living poet," yet it is very probable that Thorpe was quite in the dark as to their full history, and believed the medium through whom he received them to be their true begetter. It may be that he was purposely deceived, and allowed to use the term "Mr. W. H." in order to hide their private nature and to shield the real begetter from the public eye.
I shall prove later on that William Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, was not the patron addressed in these Sonnets, and shall, I believe, give very convincing evidence that Henry Wriothesley, Earl of Southampton, was that figure, yet I do not think it at all improbable that Pembroke was the "Mr. W. H." addressed by Thorpe, nor unlikely that the Sonnets were published through his influence and with his cognizance. It is reasonable to assume that the favor of Pembroke and his brother Montgomery, mentioned by Hemminge and Condel in the folio dedication as having been shown to Shakespeare, had commenced before the year 1609, and it is also quite possible that this favor was the result of Southampton's influence with these noblemen. We know that Southampton and Pembroke were friends, or at least very intimate acquaintances; we also know that they both, at some period, gave their countenance and patronage to Shakespeare; that he and his poems should then be a topic of common interest with them is most likely, and also, that Southampton should bring these Sonnets in manuscript to the notice of Pembroke; they having all, or nearly all, been written previous to his advent at Court in 1598, as I shall prove.
Shakespeare was already famous, and openly acknowledged as a literary star of no small magnitude by this year. Between the end of 1598 and 1601, Southampton, then out of favour with the Court, owing to this marriage with Elizabeth Vernon in defiance of the Queen's wishes, was, through his friendship with the Earl of Essex, drawn into the political vortex which ended in the death of Essex and his own imprisonment in the latter year, he remaining in prison until March, 1603. By this time the Sonnets in manuscript had, no doubt, ceased to be read, and it may be that Pembroke had never seen them till they were brought to his notice by Southampton, in or about the year 1609. Pembroke, recognizing their worth, may have brought about their publication, and in this way have become their begetter. I offer this merely as a plausible suggestion. In the light of the evidence which I shall hereafter adduce as to the identity of Southampton as the patron, this theory as to the "Mr. W. H." of Thorpe's dedication is much more reasonable than that set forth by Mr. Sidney Lee in his "Life of Shakespeare," where he endeavors to prove a claim for a certain printer and publisher named William Hall.
If William Hall was the procurer of these Sonnets, as suggested by Mr. Lee, why should he donate them to a rival publisher? for so Mr. Lee leads us to infer: if he had sold them, Thorpe would not have felt himself under any obligation to flatter him with a dedication. Thomas Thorpe undoubtedly uses the word "begetter" in the sense of inspirer: no quibbling will do away with this fact. The words, "To the onlie begetter of the insuing sonnets, Mr. W. H. all happinesse, and that eternitie promised by our ever-living poet," plainly show that Thomas Thorpe fully believed "Mr. W. H." to be the inspirer of the Sonnets and also the person who in certain of them is promised eternity; he certainly would not look upon the publisher's hack, William Hall, in this light.
Neither publishers nor writers, at that date, made free with the names and titles of noblemen to usher their wares to the world, without having first secured that right, or being fully assured, by a previous experience, of their liberty to do so.
One year later than the date of the publication of the Sonnets, we find that Thorpe dedicated Healey's translation of St. Augustine's "Citie of God" to the Earl of Pembroke, in language which strongly suggest a previous similar connection with that nobleman.
It has been suggested that a publisher would not dare to take the liberty of addressing a titled nobleman as "Mr."; and I have no doubt that Thorpe would much more willingly have published the Sonnets with a flourish of titles, but was probably prevented from doing so by Pembroke himself, for the reasons I have already suggested. The fact that Thorpe issued the Sonnets with a dedication is fair proof that he had not come by them dishonestly.
Mr. Lee assumes that Thorpe was a piratical publisher of no standing, but the fact that he published matter by Ben Jonson and Chapman, who were both very careful of their literary wares, and fully realized their value, proves that he was a fairly reputable publisher.
Mr. Lee goes rather our of his way to abuse the Elizabethan publishers' profession. There were, no doubt, dishonest publishers in those days, but the lack of definite copyright laws at that date makes it difficult to judge what was dishonesty. Publishers then, no doubt, compared quite as favorably as in this day with men in other channels of trade; but we do not find them, either then or now, presenting each other with valuable copyrights gratis, nor writing fulsome dedications to one another.
In working out my theory I have left Thorpe and his dedication out of the question and searched in the Sonnets themselves for light; I have discussed it here, principally, to show that Thorpe in 1609 recognized their personal tone. This personal idea was quite lost sight of by the year 1640, when Benson published them, and was not revived until about a hundred years after their first issue. During that period they were read, when read at all, as impersonal literature.
CHAPTER II.
THE PERSONAL THEORY.
For about two hundred years now critics and students have given more or less thought and research to the Sonnets as personal documents, hoping to find therein some light on the poet's personality and life.
Early in the eighteenth century attention was called to their personal tone, by Gildon, who conjectured that they were all written by Shakespeare to his mistress. Dr. Sewall, in 1728, reached the same conclusion. Their examination of the Sonnets, however, must have been of a most cursory nature. In 1781 Malone first suggested that the Sonnets were written to two persons, a patron and a mistress; dividing them as they are usually divided by critics at this day; from 1 to 126 to the patron, and the remaining twenty-eight to the mistress. Since that period various critics have delved into them, seeking the hidden story; all sorts of theories have been propounded; some with a slight show of foundation, and some with none.
The "Mr. W. H." of Thorpe's dedication has been a fruitful source of conjecture, and has led many students away on a wild-goose chase, and from far richer grounds of research.
Nothing in the Sonnets or plays will ever positively reveal this enigma; outside evidence may; this is quite a different thing, however, from proving the identity of the patron. It is very evident that Thorpe was quite in the dark on that point, and that he belived the Mr. W. H." to whom he dedicated them to be the patron indicated. Shakespeare certainly had no hand in their publication; several of the Sonnets are plainly incorrect in places; one Sonnet--No. 145--is undoubtedly the work of another hand, and the canzonette, as L'Envoi to the first series, is mistaken for a sonnet, and is marked as incomplete, with brackets for the supposedly missing lines. These blemishes show that Shakespeare was not consulted as to their arrangement for publication; besides which, we have his own plain statement, in the Sonnets themselves, that they were not written for sale.
After Malone's suggestion for the division of the Sonnets into two series, the next conjecture of any value was made by Dr. Drake, in 1817, when he proposed Henry Wriothesley, Earl of Southampton, as the patron, offering no other proof, however, than the palpable fact that "Venus and Adonis," and "Lucrece," were dedicated to that nobleman. He would not believe that the Sonnets 127 to 154 were addressed to a real woman, and supposes that they were written, as were many other sonnets of that day, to an imaginary mistress. Dr. Drake has had many followers in this theory; in his recent book Mr. Sidney Lee voiced the same ideas.
In 1818 a Mr. Bright conceived the idea that William Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, was the patron addressed in the Sonnets, taking the "W. H." of Thorpe's dedication for his grounds, coupled with the fact that Shakespeare's fellow actors, Heminge and Condel, in 1623, dedicated the first folio to this nobleman. Mr. Bright, while nursing his idea in the hope of finding further light, was forestalled in the public announcement of it by Dr. Boaden in 1832. Since that date students of the Sonnets have been divided into two camps, viz.: Southamptonites and Pembrokites. There are some few free lances who attach themselves to neither side; believing that the Sonnets are mere poetical exercises, composed at different times, in an assumed character, by the poet for the amusement of his friends. Much interesting work has been done by the champions of both the former theories. The most voluminous writer on the side of Southampton was Mr. Gerald Massey (1864): on the side of Pembroke, Mr. Thomas Tyler is at this date the undoubted leader. Mr. Sidney Lee has recently espoused the Southamptonite cause, but has not adduced any new nor definite proof in support of the theory. Mr. Lee, in his excellent and painstaking book, makes the mistake, common with many critics who have written on the Sonnets, of neglecting the Sonnets themselves, and adducing all his proof from outside sources. The "dark lady" and her influence he dismisses as a trivial incident, which, while possibly an actual fact in Shakespeare's life, was of so small moment, and such short duration, that it cannot have affected the tenor of his work.
The story or stories of the Sonnets, as they rest to-day, are built altogether upon inference and conjecture. Both conjecture and inference are of course valuable, if they work from setled data or known fact, but, so far, little actual fact or conclusive data have been adduced.
The interesting story which Mr. Tyler builds around the Pembroke theory seemed to me most conclusive; the only things which appeared to render it doubtful were the mistiness of his chronology for the Sonnets and the imputation of ingratitude towards Southampton, with which it inferentially charges Shakespeare. I can much more readily believe a story of even grosser sensuality than that revealed in the "dark lady" Sonnets, on the part of Shakespeare, than believe him capable of the ingratitude to his early patron with which the Pembroke theory necessarily charges him, and which, it also would show us, that he himself in the Sonnets has the baseness to extenuate. To Mr. Tyler's excellent book, however, I owe my interest in the Sonnets, and must admit that, for a long time after reading it, I was a confirmed Pembrokite. Of all the arguments used by Mr. Tyler, the one that most interested me was that suggested by Professor Minto in his Characteristics of the English Poets" (1885), identifying George Chapman as the "rival poet." This, while merely inference, was of a stronger and more plausible nature than any other theory regarding that figure, and seemed to me to offer a good basis for further investigation.
For the last ten years I have, in a haphazard way, and at odd moments, pursued this theory, seldom being without a copy of the Sonnets in my pocket; reading them in my moments of leisure, searching for evidence of their history, till I have come to have them by heart, though never having made any set effort to memorize them. I have also, during these years, read most of Chapman's poems very thoroughly, with the same object in view, though not, I may say, with the same pleasure; and in the case of Chapman also, I have unconsciously memorized many passages. This habit, or trick of memory, has stood me in good stead, in revealing to me parallels which otherwise might have passed unnoticed. It was not long till I made one or two discoveries, which, to my mind, demolished the basis of the Pembroke theory. To this, then, I gave no more thought, and pursued my investigations irrespective of the claims of Shouthamptonite or Pembrokite.
The Pembroke theory is based upon the suggestion that the Sonnets to the patron were all written in and after the year 1598; consequently, if conclusive evidence be adduced of their earlier production, the theory straightway falls to the ground.
I have not wrought with the idea of supporting the contention of either the Southamptonites or Prembrokites. Having steeped my mind in the Sonnets, I was forced to a belief in their personal nature and their autobiographical value, and set myself the task of giving, if possible, a definite date for their production; feeling assured that this would be the best manner in which to settle the personality of the patron and friend to whom they were addressed. The opportunities for outside research which I possess being limited, any new light I might find I must look for in the Sonnets themselves, and finding any indications there to guide me, follow where they pointed. In this way I have been led to make a study of those plays in which the style and versification, as well as the passionate and poetical treatment of the theme of love, indicated the period of the Sonnets, as containing the same elements. By this method I have made some further discoveries which will greatly strengthen the basis for a more extended research and a deeper study of Shakespeare's plays, as touching on his own individuality.
I shall show conclusively that Professor Minto's conjecture as to Chapman's identity as the "rival poet" is absolutely true. From the same data I shall prove the truth of the contention of the Southamptonites; I shall throw an altogether new light on "Love's Labour's Lost," and "Troilus and Cressida," and give a definite date for their production and their revision; I shall show the truth of very interesting internal evidence in the Sonnets, which has hitherto been quite misunderstood or altogether unnoticed, and shall set a fairly definite date for their production.
I should like to continue my investigations further, before publishing any of the results I have attained, but my findings are so palpable to anyone who, having the key, follows out the theory, that I am fearful that someone else might light upon it, and put me in the position of Mr. Bright with Dr. Boaden, for all have the key, which is the happy suggestion of Professor Minto that I have already mentioned.
I thought I saw in Shakespeare's references to the "rival poet" something stronger than mere fear of a rival, and searching the Sonnets, have found other references than that suggested by Professor Minto, which not only more plainly indicate Chapman, but are also of a more satirical character.
Being thus thoroughly convinced that Chapman was the poet indicated and attacked, I thought it probable that some indications of the reason for the rivalry, or for Shakespeare's enmity, might be found in Chapman's own poems; I believe that I shall fully establish this fact. If, then, I can positively prove the identity of the rival, and that the rivalry was not a passing phase, but enduring and bitter, the bitterness and duration of the rivalry will plainly prove the fact of the continued and valuable friendship and patronage so fought for; if the patron and rival are seen to have been living actualities, the dark mistress necessarily cannot be an imaginary being, as not only the Sonnets written to her, but also the Sonnets written to the patron, prove that, for a short period at least, she also entered into his life.
I shall show very plainly that Shakespeare carries his friendship for Southampton and his rivalry against Chapman into certain of his plays. If a platonic masculine friendship and a poetic rivalry lead him to this extent, it is even more probable that the passionate love for a woman of such a highly strung, poetic, and sensitive nature as Shakespeare's should still more strongly influence his dramatic work.
I have not identified the "dark lady," but do not on that account agree with a recent writer, and many other critics of a like mind, that "it was the exacting conventions of sonneteering contagion, and not his personal experience, that impelled Shakespeare to give the 'dark lady' of his Sonnets a poetic being."
If there is one figure more real than the others in the Sonnets, it is the "dark lady"; the rival poet is a phantom, and the patron a myth, in comparison with this black-eyed daughter of Eve. This writer further says: "there is no greater, and no less ground, for seeking in Shakespeare's personal environment the original of the 'dark lady' in the Sonnets, than for seeking there the original of the Queen of Egypt." To me it seems extremely probable that not only Cleopatra, but also Rosaline and Cressida, are poetic idealizations of this willful, sensuous, and sprightly young woman.
Many commentators reject the personal theory of the Sonnets as a whole, yet accept as personal some individual Sonnets that fit their theories and tastes. Either they are, as a whole, mere exercises of poetic imagination, or they are, as Wordsworth, with a poet's keen insight, recognized, "this key" with which "Shakespeare unlocked his heart."
Many critics have accepted and followed the personal theory of the Sonnets till they have run foul of this shocking person, the "dark lady," when, finding that further acquiescence in the theory would topple our unconventional Elizabethan actor-poet from the Bowdlerized pedestal upon which their staid Victorian imagination had placed him, they have abandoned the quest. Mr. Knight and Mr. Massey are notable instances of this class. Mr. Massey did some valuable work in elucidating Dr. Drake's theory as to Southampton's connection with the poet, but in order to preserve Shakespeare intact upon his pedestal, he imagines a most extraordinary tale, without the merest shadow of proof, and in several places takes unwarrantable liberties with the text of the Sonnets, to fit them to his theory. In quoting Mr. Knight as an advocate against the personal theory, he says: "Mr. Knight has found the perplexities of the personal theory so insurmountable that he has not followed in the steps of those who have jauntily overleaped the difficulties that meet us everywhere, and which ought, until fairly conquered, to have surrounded and protected the poet's personal character as with a chevaux-de-frise. He has wisely hesitated, rather than rashly joined in making a wanton charge of gross immorality and egregious folly against Shakespeare." So careful is he of the lay figure into which his imagination has transformed that being of bounding, exultant blood, who wrote:
"From woman's eyes this doctrine I derive. |
They sparkle still the tru Promethean fire, |
They are the arts, the books, the academies, |
That show, contain, and nourish all the world" |
that remorseful, and deep-seeing spirit that wrote the Sonnets:
"Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth," etc. (146),
and
"The expense of spirit in a waste of shame," etc. (129).
Without fear for Shakespeare, I can wish the matter of the "dark lady" probed to the end; feeling confident that, when all is known, Shakespeare will be none the less Shakespeare; Mr. Browning to the contrary, notwirthstanding.
I believe, from what I find in the Sonnets, that our poet's connection with this woman commenced at almost the same period as his acquaintance with Southampton, in about 1593, and that it was continued until about the beginning of 1598. I believe, also, that he genuinely loved her, and fired with the passion and intensity of his love, produced in those years the marvelous rhapsodies of love in "Romeo and Juliet," "Love's Labor's Lost," and other of his love plays, which have so charmed the world, and still charm it, and shall continue to do so while the language lives.
If ever a man lived who sounded the human heart to its depths, and gauged its heights, that man was Shakespeare, and such knowledge as he had, and shows us of life, may not be attained by hearsay, nor at second hand.
We know somewhat of the manner in which he produced his plays; research has shown us in many instances their sources, at least the sources of their plots; we know how he took the bare skeletons of history, the shreds and patches of romance and tradition, the "loose feathers of fame," and on them built the splendid structure of his plays, seldom altering the outlines of the plots, yet, withal, so transfiguring them with the light of his genius that in his hands they became new creations. So, we may fairly assume, he, to some extent, took incidents of his daily life, and the characteristics of the men and women with whom he came in contact, and clothing them with the radiance of his fancy, incorporated them in his plays.
That this is true, in at least two plays, I believe I can prove by the light of the Sonnets. That the Sonnets are personal documents, that in them Shakespeare spoke his real feelings to real people, is a conclusion which I think all will reach who will follow my argument, and who will make a study of the Sonents with their minds cleared of cant. The personality which we find there revealed may, it is true, lose somewhat of the Olympian, but dim, proportions which we have been used to give the poet; but it will take on a humanity and a nearness which will vastly enhance both him and his work in our eyes.
As our greatest men recede into history, while their proportions enlarge in our mental vision, their characteristic lineaments are lost in the glow of the halos with which our regard endows them. This tendency is as old as the race: in remote times, by this process our ancestors made them gogs; in these days we are more like to make them wooden gods.
While I contend that the Sonnets are largely autobiographical, and they they reveal a real friend and patron, as well as a real rival, and mistress, yet I fully recognize the fact that the language is that of poetry and may not always be taken at its face value. Many of them, no doubt, are topical, and some of them can be shown by their form and expression to be reflections of more trivial sonnets by other writers, who openly disavowed reality for their goddesses and mistresses, but this, instead of detracting from their personal value, as argued by Mr. Lee and others, rather adds strength to it when we consider the nature and object of the references and reflections noted. Let us take one instance where such a reflection seems very strong: Henry Constable and Bernard Griffin, in the following sonnets, were, no doubt, somewhat influenced in their imagery and ideas by Chapman's "Amorous Zodiac," which preceded their verses in date of production. Constable writes as follows:
"OF HIS MISTRESS UPON OCCASION OF HER WALKING IN A GARDEN. |
"My lady's presence makes the roses red, |
Because to see her lips they blush for shame: |
The lily's leaves, for envy, pale became, |
And her white hands in them this envy bred. |
.
The marigold abroad her leaves doth spread, |
Because the Sun's and her power is the same; |
The violet of purple colour came, |
Dyed with the blood she makes my heart to shed. |
In brief, all flowers from her this virtue take: |
From her sweet breath their sweet smells do proceed, |
The living heat which her eye-beams do make |
Warmeth the ground and quickeneth the seed. |
The rain wherewith she watereth these flowers |
Falls from mine eyes, which she dissolves in showers." |
And again, Bernard Griffin writes to his mistress in the following strain:
"My lady's hair is threads of beaten god, |
Her front the purest crystal eye hath seen, |
Her eye the brightest star of heaven holds, |
Her cheeks red roses such as seld have been, |
Her pretty lips of red vermilion dye, |
Her hands of ivory the purest white, |
Her blush Aurora, or the morning sky, |
Her breast displays two silver fountains bright, |
The sphere her voice, her grace, the Graces three, |
Her body is the saint that I adore, |
Her smiles and favors sweet as honey bee, |
Her feet fair Thetis praiseth ever more, |
But, oh, the worst and last is yet behind |
For of a griffin she doth bear the mind." |
Shakespeare, with one or both of these sonnets very evidently in his mind, writes of his mistress:
"My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; |
Coral is far more red than her lips' red: |
If snows be white, why then her breasts are dun; |
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. |
I have seen roses damsk'd red and white, |
But no such roses see I in her cheeks; |
And in some perfumes is there more delight |
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. |
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know |
That music hath a far more pleasing sound: |
I grant I never saw a goddess go, |
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground: |
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare |
As any she belied with false compare." |
Here we find Shakespeare, far from being governed by the "exacting conventions of the sonneteering contagion" and giving an imaginary "dark lady" "a poetic being," flying directly in the face of conventions, and painting with most strongly realistic strokes a very flesh-and-blood being. In this, as in several other instances in the Sonnets, Shakespeare refers to or parodies other sonneteers, who write to imaginary mistresses, or else write extravagantly to and almost deify real ones; not reflecting nor indorsing their extravagances, but directly opposing and mocking them with his reality.
While what has ben called "the sonneteering contagion," lasting in England from about 1590 to 1598, in all probability influenced Shakespeare to the use of this form of verse, and while he necessarily is somewhat influenced by the form and expressions used by other writers whose poems he read, these facts do not detract from the value of his Sonnets as personal documents, as it is only in form and expression that he is influenced.
To anyone who, having read Shakespeare's Sonnets, fails to find the intimate and personal note, I would say, read them again, and again, and again if necessary; it is there. Shakespeare wrote his Sonnets as private epistles to his patron and to his mistress, who circulated them amongst their friends, but that they were not written for publication or for sale, we have his own plain avowal in the 21st Sonnet:
I will not praise that purpose not to sell."
That this is the correct meaning of this line I will prove in a later chapter.
CHAPTER III.
AN ANALYSIS OF THORPE'S ARRANGEMENT OF THE SONNETS.
The order which Thorpe used in his issue of the Sonnets, in 1609, is still generally recognized as correct by Shakespearean critics. I may, therefore, be deemed presumptuous in assailing that which has been so long accepted without question; however, after many years of interested and analytic study of the Sonnets, I am forced to take issue against the infallibility of Thorpe's arrangement. The regard in which this arrangement has been held has arisen largely from the fact that Thorpe issued the Sonnets during the poet's life, and, therefore, possibly with his cognizance or under his supervision. I am fully convinced, and believe I can give fairly conclusive proof, that Shakespear had no hand in their arrangement or publication.
Someone has said that, if one Sonnet can be shown to be out of its place and away from its context, the whole value of Thorpe's order is at once destroyed.
I shall adduce several very plain instances where this is the case, and yet I admit a very great sequential value for this arrangement. In order to properly estimate this value, it is necessary to understand the conditions under which Thorpe produced his editon.
I believe I shall clearly show that many of the Sonnets were written previous to 1595, and that the period of the production of the whole series antedates 1601. As the Sonnets were not published until 1609, they were, then, held in manuscript for from ten to fifteen years. We know that the Sonnets were produced at different times during a period of at least three years.
In the 108th Shakespeare says:
"What's in the brain that ink may character, |
Which hath not figured to thee my true spirit? |
What's new to speak, what new to register, |
That may express my love, or thy dear merit? |
Nothing, sweet boy; but yet, like prayers divine, |
I must each day say o'er the very same; |
Counting no old thing old, thou mine, I thine, |
Even as when first I hallowed thy fair name." |
This plainly proves that Sonnets were written in the earlier, as well as the later periods of the friendship revealed in the Sonnets.
Sonnet 104 says:
"To me, fair friend, you never can be old, |
For as you were when first your eye I eyed, |
Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold |
Have from the forests shook three summer's pride, |
Three beauteous springs to yellow autumns turn'd |
In process of the seasons have I seen, |
Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn'd, |
Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green." |
This extract shows that the sonnet-writing had at the date of its production lasted for three years. We may then assume that the manuscripts from which Thorpe worked were detached books or sequences, and not one large manuscript containing the whole of the Sonnets as we know them. Thugh they were written as private epistles to the poet's patron, and mistress, they were evidently shown by their recipients to their friends, and passed amongst them to be read. In 1598 Meres mentions Shakespeare's "Sugred sonnets amongst his private friends," and I believe I shall show that Champman had read some of them in manuscript many years before their eventual publication. We see, then, that the Sonnets were passed among Southampton's friends as they were written.
If we can get any idea of the number of the groups or sequences, we will begin to understand Thorpe's difficulties in chronologically arranging the whole series: to get any such idea, we must necessarily go to Thorpe's edition. We will, therefore, begin at the beginning and seek for palpable sequences.
We see very clearly that the first seventeen Sonnets are closely connected and plainly of the same group; the 18th and 19th Sonnets, while differing somewhat in subject, are also very evidently connected with the first group, but neither the 20th, 21st, 22d, 23d, 24th, or 25th are in any way related, either in sense or figure; the 26th Sonnet, however, is very similar in tone, and is plainly the last Sonnet of a sequence. In nearly all of the later Sonnets we find a most distinct avowal of the poet's love for his friend, and also a plain record of that friend's avowal of love for the poet; we find hopes, fears, and even jealousy, and the clearest proofs of a very intimate friendship and close personal relations. In the first group we find none of this; friendship is not once mentioned, the poet's love for the patron is alluded to, but in a most conventional manner, and only two or three times in the whole sequence.
There can be little doubt, then, that these were the earliest Sonnets of the whole series. We find only nineteen Sonnets which show continuity: now sequences were not written of this number; twenty, however, was a very common number for sonnet-sequences at that period; this, then, was very evidently such a sequence: where is the missing Sonnet? Certainly not either 20 or 21; I shall prove this couple to be detached and topical, having no connection whatever with the first sequence, nor even with any succeeding Sonnets which come anywhere near them. These two Sonnets were written as an attack upon Chapman and a poem which he published in 1595, called "The Amorous Zodiac"; this will be proved in a later chapter. A very casual reading will show that neither the 22d nor 23d Sonnet is connected with the first group, and also that they have no connection with each other; they evidently belong elsewhere. The 24th Sonnet is not connected with this group; its proper context will be found in Sonnets 46 and 47. I shall give these three Sonnets at length, to prove their connection.
SONNET 24.
"Mine�eye�hath�play'd�the�painter�and�hath�stell'd |
Thy�beauty's�form�in�table�of�my�heart; |
My�body�is�the�frame�wherein�'tis�held, |
And�perspective�it�is�the�painter's�art. |
For�through�the�painter�must�you�see�his�skill, |
To�find�where�your�true�image�pictured�lies; |
Which�in�my�bosom's�shop�is�hanging�still, |
That�hath�his�windows�glazed�with�thine�eyes. |
Now�see�what�good�turns�eyes�for�eyes�have�done: |
Mine�eyes�have�drawn�thy�shape,�and�thine�for�me |
Are�windows�to�my�breast,�where-through�the�sun |
Delights�to�peep,�to�gaze�therein�on�thee; |
Yet�eyes�this�cunning�want�to�grace�their�art; |
They�draw�but�what�they�see,�know�not�the�heart." |
SONNET 46.
"Mine�eye�and�heart�are�at�a�mortal�war |
How�to�divide�the�conquest�of�thy�sight; |
Mine�eye�my�heart�thy�picture's�sight�would�bar, |
My�heart�mine�eye�the�freedom�of�that�right. |
My�heart�doth�plead�that�thou�in�him�dost�lie, |
A�closet�never�pierced�with�crystal�eyes, |
But�the�defendant�doth�that�plea�deny, |
And�says�in�him�thy�fair�appearance�lies. |
To�'cide�this�title�is�impanneled |
A�quest�of�thoughts,�all�tenants�to�the�heart; |
And�by�their�verdict�is�determined |
The�clear�eye's�moiety�and�the�dear�heart's�part: |
As�thus:�mine�eye's�due�is�thy�outward�part |
And�my�heart's�right�thy�inward�love�of�heart." |
|
SONNET 47.
"Betwixt�mine�eye�and�heart�a�league�is�took, |
And�each�doth�good�turns�now�unto�the�other: |
When�that�mine�eye�is�famish'd�for�a�look, |
Or�heart�in�love�with�sighs�himself�does�smother, |
With�my�love's�picture�then�my�eye�doth�feast |
And�to�the�painted�banquet�bids�my�heart; |
Another�time�mine�eye�is�my�heart's�guest |
And�in�his�thoughts�of�love�doth�share�a�part: |
So,�either�by�the�picture�or�my�love, |
Thyself�away�art�present�still�with�me; |
For�thou�not�farther�than�my�thoughts�canst�move, |
And�I�am�still�with�them�and�they�with�thee; |
Or,�if�they�sleep,�thy�picture�in�my�sight |
Awakes�my�heart�to�heart's�and�eye's�delight." |
The sequence of ideas and the connection of these Sonnets, one with another, are too palpable for comment.
The 25th Sonnet is very plainly not connected, in either subject or figure, with the first sequence; the concluding lines,
"Then happy I, that love and am beloved |
Where I may not remove nor be removed," |
show a much more advanced stage in the poet's friendship with Southampton than that indicated in the first sequence; the true context for this Sonnet will be found in the 29th Sonnet, which, whoever, should precede it:
SONNET 29.
"When,�in�disgrace�with�fortune�and�men's�eyes, |
I�all�alone�beweep�my�outcast�state |
And�trouble�deal�heaven�with�my�bootless�cries, |
And�look�upon�myself,�and�curse�my�fate, |
Wishing�me�like�to�one�more�rich�in�hope, |
Featured�like�him,�like�him�with�friends�possess'd, |
Desiring�this�man's�art�and�that�man's�scope, |
With�what�I�most�enjoy�contented�least; |
Yet�in�these�thoughts�myself�almost�despising, |
Haply�I�think�on�thee,�and�then�my�state, |
Like�to�the�lark�at�break�of�day�arising |
From�sullen�earth,�sings�hymns�at�heaven's�gate; |
For�thy�sweet�love�remember'd�such�wealth�brings |
That�then�I�scorn�to�change�my�state�with�kings." |
SONNET 25.
"Let�those�who�are�in�favour�with�their�stars |
Of�public�honour�and�proud�titles�boast, |
Whilst�I,�whom�fortune�of�such�triumph�bars, |
Unlook'd�for�joy�in�that�I�honour�most. |
Great�princes'�favourites�their�fair�leaves�spread |
But�as�the�marigold�at�the�sun's�eye, |
And�in�themselves�their�pride�lies�buried,
For�at�a�frown�they�in�their�glory�die. |
The�painful�warrior�famoused�for�fight, |
After�a�thousand�victories�once�foil'd, |
Is�from�the�book�of�honour�razed�quite, |
And�all�the�rest�forgot�for�which�he�toil'd: |
Then�happy�I,�that�love�and�am�beloved |
Where�I�may�not�remove�nor�be�removed." |
|
If the two Sonnets here quoted be critically compard with their present contexts, it will be seen very clearly that they are out of place.
The 26th Sonnet is very palpably the end of the first sonnet-sequence and should be numbered 20. It has no connection with any other Sonnet or Sonnets in the whole series: it undoubtedly belongs to the earliest stage of the poet's connection with the nobleman; in it he fearfully avows his love, and no love is indicated as being given by Southampton, or even hoped for by the poet. It was very evidently sent to Southampton accompanying some other matter, as we find in the lines:
"To thee I send this written ambassage, |
To witness duty, not to show my wit; |
Duty so great, which wit so poor as mine |
May make seem bare, in wanting words to show it, |
But that I hope some good conceit of thine |
In thy soul's thought, all naked, will bestow it." |
By words this written ambassage" Shakespeare certainly does not mean this single Sonnet, but very evidently alludes to the group of which this Sonnet is the end.
Here, then, we have one sequence of twenty Sonnets intact. This sequence, however, has little personal value; it is a dissertation upon the advantages of matrimony and a fulsome panegyric upon the physical beauty of this young nobleman. These Sonnets were written at an early stage of the poet's connection with Southampton, not in the spirit of the later Sonnets, as a friend of a friend, and touching upon intimate personal things, but as a poetical exercise, such as any poet might write to any patron. This is the only twenty-sonnet sequence in the whole series; nearly all the remaining Sonnets were written in small groups, as letters in verse, touching upon matters personal to the two friends. The number of Sonnets in these epistles differ; very often they were written in couples, sometimes in threes, and occasionally in fours. In one case I think I find a sequence of ten Sonnets, and to this sequence I would attach the canzonette, No. 126, as L'Envoi.
These small groups or sequences, however, are not always intact: as in the case of the first twenty-sonnet sequence, the last or the first Sonnet of a group is often detached, and to be found far removed from its proper context, and mixed in with other Sonnets to which it has no possible relation. I think I have rendered this very plain in the instance of the 26th Sonnet, when compared with its context in the 46th and 47th; and again in the 25th and 29th Sonnets.
I shall now point out a few other instances where such disarrangement is so palpable that a mere comparison will convince the reader; and at the same time I shall indicate several of the small groups of two, three, and four Sonnets, which plainly show that they are whole in themselves and not connected with any long sequence.
We have disposed of the Sonnets up to 26, and shall continue from that point.
Sonnets 27 and 28 are a very plainly connected couple; they have nothing whatever to do with 26 or 29, as I have previously shown: I do not find in the whole series any other Sonnet connected with this pair, and believe that they together make one of the before-mentioned poetical epistles.
Sonnets 30 and 31 are also a separate and distinct pair, treating of one particular subject, or revealing a particular mood of the poet's mind; this couple is also a letter written during absence. I am inclined to believe that these two Sonnets were written from Stratford in 1596, and that they reflect the pathetic gloom of the poet's mind caused by his son Hamnet's death at that date.
Sonnet 32, though treating of death, as do the two preceding Sonnets, and placed in its present connection by Thorpe, probably on that account, has no connection whatever in sense or style with the two preceding Sonnets, as a comparison will plainly show. The proper connection for this Sonnet will be found in Sonnet 81; this latter Sonnet, when critically compared with its present contexts, Sonnets 80 and 82, will be seen to be out of place: both 80 and 82 treat very plainly of the rival poet; Sonnet 80 ends with a figure in which the poet, comparing himself to a worthless boat, and his rival to a ship of "tall building and of goodly pride," says:
"Then if he thrive and I be cast away, |
The worst was this, my love was my decay." |
Here we find no possible reference to the subject of death, and there can be little doubt but that it was the word "decay," at the end of this Sonnet, which misled Thorpe into placing the 81st Sonnet in its present connection. I shall quote both the 32d and the 81st Sonnets to show their very plain connection:
SONNET 32.
"If�thou�survive�my�well-contented�day, |
When�that�churl�Death�my�bones�with�dust�shall�cover, |
And�shalt�by�fortune�once�more�re-survey |
These�poor�rude�lines�of�thy�deceased�lover, |
Compare�them�with�the�bettering�of�the�time, |
And�though�they�be�outstripp'd�by�every�pen, |
Reserve�them�for�my�love,�not�for�their�rhyme, |
Exceeded�by�the�height�of�happier�men. |
O,�then�vouchsafe�me�but�this�loving�thought: |
'Had�my�friend's�Muse�grown�with�this�growing�age, |
A�dearer�birth�than�this�his�love�had�brought, |
To�march�in�ranks�of�better�equipage: |
But�since�he�died�and�poets�better�prove, |
Theirs�for�their�style�I'll�read,�his�for�his�love.'" |
SONNET 81.
"Or�I�shall�live�your�epitaph�to�make, |
Or�you�survive�when�I�in�earth�am�rotten; |
From�hence�your�memory�death�cannot�take. |
Although�in�me�each�part�will�be�forgotten. |
Your�name�from�hence�immortal�life�shall�have, |
Though�I,�once�gone,�to�all�the�world�must�die: |
The�earth�can�yield�me�but�a�common�grave, |
When�you�entombed�in�men's�eyes�shall�lie. |
Your�monument�shall�be�my�gentle�verse, |
Which�eyes�not�yet�created�shall�o'er-read; |
And�tongues�to�be�your�being�shall�rehearse, |
When�all�the�breathers�of�this�world�are�dead; |
You�still�shall�live--such�virtue�hath�my�pen-- |
Where�breath�most�breathes,�even�in�the�mouths�of�men." |
Sonnets 33, 34, and 35 are most distinctly of the same sequence. This group forms the poet's first epistle to his friend upon the subject of the "dark lady"; they were, most probably, written from Stratford in 1596, as were, no doubt, all of the Sonnets touching upon this subject. We find four distinct letters: two to Southampton, and two to the "dark lady." In both the series to the patron and the series to the mistress these groups are separated by Sonnets touching on quite different matters; it is extemely improbable that Shakespeare wrote these intervening Sonnets at that time, or that any Sonnets bearing on other subjects were written between these two epistles. In the series to the patron we find 33, 34, and 35 as one epistle, and 40, 41, and 42 as a second; both referring to Southampton's indiscretions. In the series to the "dark lady" we find two couples treating on the same subject; and both divided by several Sonnets; as in the case in the patron series--Sonnets 133 and 134 for the first epistle, and 143 and 144 for the second. In neither series have these groups any connection with their immediate contexts, consequently they are not parts of larger sequences. Had Thorpe found these Sonnets in detached sheets, there can be little doubt but that he would have placed them all together in each series, as they very plainly treat of one and the same subject. The fact that we find them separated, and divided in both series into two groups, lends very strong color to my contention regarding all the Sonnets following the first sequence--that they were written at different times, in small groups and as poetical letters. It is quite unlikely that either Southampton or the "dark lady," in passing Shakespeare's Sonnets on to their friends, would let these particular groups out of their hands. I have already shown where other small sequences are broken and divided; here, however, are four small groups quite intact. Thorpe very evidently found these groups quite unimpaired; they, no doubt, owing to their private nature, having been less handled than the other sequences.
I do not at present intend to attempt to indicate the sequential misplacement of Sonnets nor the chronological disorder of sequences through the whole series; I wish merely to prove my contention that the Sonnets were written in small detached groups, of twos, threes, fours, etc., and to show that many of them are away from their proper groups. I desire also to prove that whole sequences are chronologically misplaced. These facts have, I believe, been here sufficiently proved; however, I shall adduce two more very plain instances. If Sonnet 56 be compared with Sonnet 55, it will be clearly seen to be the beginning of a new sequence and 55 the ending of some other group. When we compare 56 with 57, no connection whatever is to be found between them. Sonnet 56 reveals a reunion after separation and ends with a figure, in which the poet likens his absence to the winter. The proper connection for this Sonnet will be found in No. 97, which not only continues the simile with which the 56th Sonnet ends, but shows the same reunion, and speaks of the same absence; these ideas and figures continue on into the 98th and 99th Sonnets, making a very distinct group of four. I shall quote these Sonnets to prove this very obvious sequence:
SONNET 56.
"Sweet�love,�renew�thy�force;�be�it�not�said | |
Thy�edge�should�blunter�be�than�appetite, | |
Which�but�to-day�by�feeding�is�allay'd, | |
To-morrow�sharpen'd�in�his�former�might: | |
So,�love,�be�thou;�although�to-day�thou�fill | |
Thy�hungry�eyes�even�till�they�wink�with�fulness, | |
To-morrow�see�again,�and�do�not�kill | |
The�spirit�of�love�with�a�perpetual�dulness. | |
Let�this�sad�interim�like�the�ocean�be | |
Which�parts�the�shore,�where�two�contracted�new | |
Come�daily�to�the�banks,�that,�when�they�see | |
Return�of�love,�more�blest�may�be�the�view; | |
Or�call�it�winter,�which,�being�full�of�care, | |
Makes�summer's�welcome�thrice�more�wish'd,�more�rare." | |
SONNET 97.
"How�like�a�winter�hath�my�absence�been | |
From�thee,�the�pleasure�of�the�fleeting�year! | |
What�freezings�have�I�felt,�what�dark�days�seen! | |
What�old�December's�bareness�every�where! | |
And�yet�this�time�removed�was�summer's�time; | |
The�teeming�autumn,�big�with�rich�increase, | |
Bearing�the�wanton�burden�of�the�prime, | |
Like�widowed�wombs�after�their�lord's�decease: | |
Yet�this�abundant�issue�seemed�to�me | |
But�hope�of�orphans�and�unfather'd�fruit; | |
For�summer�and�his�pleasures�wait�on�thee | |
And,�thou�away,�the�very�birds�are�mute; | |
Or,�if�they�sing,�'tis�with�so�dull�a�cheer | |
That�leaves�look�pale,�dreading�the�winter's�near." | |
SONNET 98.
"From�you�have�I�been�absent�in�the�spring, | |
When�proud-pied�April�dress'd�in�all�his�trim, | |
Hath�put�a�spirit�of�youth�in�every�thing, | |
That�heavy�Saturn�laugh'd�and�leap'd�with�him. | |
Yet�nor�the�lays�of�birds,�nor�the�sweet�smell | |
Of�different�flowers�in�odour�and�in�hue, | |
Could�make�me�any�summer's�story�tell, | |
Or�from�their�proud�lap�pluck�them�where�they�grew: | |
Nor�did�I�wonder�at�the�lily's�white, | |
Nor�praise�the�deep�vermilion�in�the�rose; | |
They�were�but�sweet,�but�figures�of�delight, | |
Drawn�after�you,�you�pattern�of�all�those. | |
Yet�seem'd�it�winter�still,�and,�you�away, | |
As�with�your�shadow�I�with�these�did�play." | |
SONNET 99.
"The�forward�violet�thus�did�I�chide: | |
Sweet�thief,�whence�didst�thou�steal�thy�sweet�that�smells, | |
If�not�from�my�love's�breath?�The�purple�pride | |
Which�on�thy�soft�cheek�for�complexion�dwells | |
In�my�love's�veins�thou�hast�too�grossly�dyed. | |
The�lily�I�condemned�for�thy�hand, | |
And�buds�of�marjoram�had�stol'n�thy�hair; | |
The�roses�fearfully�on�thorns�did�stand, | |
One�blushing�shame,�another�white�despair; | |
A�third,�nor�red�nor�white,�had�stol'n�of�both, | |
And�to�his�robbery�had�annex'd�thy�breath; | |
But,�for�his�theft,�in�pride�of�all�his�growth | |
A�vengeful�canker�eat�him�up�to�death. | |
More�flowers�I�noted,�yet�I�none�could�see | |
But�sweet�or�colour�it�had�stol'n�from�thee." | |
Here is a case in which we find a Sonnet away from its proper context, as well as a sequence out of its chronological order. Thorpe placed these Sonnets as Nos. 97, 98, and 99, not from any relation which he supposed they had to the Sonnets immediately preceding them, but from a connection which he imagined they had with the Sonnets from 100 onwards. If the 100th Sonnet and those that immediately follow be analyzed, they will be seen to indicate, not an absence of the poet's, but of Southampton's, and also to show strong evidence of a recent estrangement. Sonnets 56, 97, 98, and 99, however, display only an absence, and that an absence of the poet's in the country; the figures and similes therein used plainly reveal Shakespeare's renewed acquaintance with rural life. I am convinced that this sequence belongs to a period much earlier than the Sonnets preceding or succeeding it, and think that they were the first Sonnets written after the poet's return from Stratford, upon the occasion of his visit in 1596.
Sonnets 78 to 86, though probably nearly all of the same period, do not form a connected sequence, though, with one exception, they all refer to the rival poet. The exception I notice is Sonnet 81, which I have hitherto shown should be coupled with the 32d Sonnet.
Group 87 to 96, I am inclined to believe, is a sequence; they all refer to the growing coldness of the friend and patron. The later Sonnets of this sequence, 93, 94, 95, and 96, have a tone of admonition not to be found in any other group or single Sonnet in the whole series; the canzonette, No. 126, however, displays the same admonitory tone, and , I am inclined to believe, belong as L'Envoi to this ten-sonnet sequence: it certainly has no bearing upon its present context.
Shakespeare and the Rival Poet
Arthur Acheson
John Lane: The Bodley Head
London and New York
1905
First Internet Edition 1996
Rutgers University Libraries
PR2848.A87
Omnipædia Polyglotta
Francisco López Rodríguez
[email protected]
[email protected]