INTRODUCTION : CONTENTS I. THE CHIEF SUBJECT OF THE SONNETS II. THE "PATRON" AND "LITERARY EXERCISE" PAGE VI. THE FRIEND: THE EARL OF PEMBROKE. Xxxviii xlii INTRODUCTION I. THE CHIEF SUBJECT OF THE SONNETS If The first hundred and twenty-six sonnets celebrate the affection of an elder for a younger man, wherewith there mingles not a little admiration for his grace and charm. I may put quite shortly what I conceive to be the peculiar type of this affection, I should say it was a type not uncommonly found in imaginative natures. A poet, whatever else he is, is a man with keener senses and stronger emotions than other men; he is more sensitive to beauty, especially the beauty of youth; and, as the poetry of the whole world. may convince us, he is especially sensitive to that beauty's decay. Hence it is not uncommon to find in poets of mature years a strong disposition to consort with young people, and a keen pleasure in their society, as though to atone for the slow sapping of youthful strength and ardour in themselves. It is well that the majority of us should stifle our dissatisfaction at the inevitable oncoming of age. by doing the tasks which age lays upon us and for which youth is incompetent. The middle-aged youth or maiden is a fair theme for satire. But poets cannot be blamed if, feeling what we feel more keenly, they give to the sentiment an occasional expression; nor if they seek to keep fresh their own youthful enthusiasm by associating with younger people. There is an interesting passage in Browning's poem of Cleon where Cleon, who is a poet, writing to King Protus on the subject of joy in life, contrasts his own supposed joy in the wide outlook of age with the actual joy of living; and Browning seems there, through the mouth of Cleon, to be uttering a sentiment that many poets have felt, and that, as I believe, accounts for much in Shakespeare's sonnets. Who leave behind me living works indeed; With actually living? Otherwise Where is the artist's vantage o'er the king? Because in my great epos I display How divers men young, strong, fair, wise, can act Is this as though I acted? if I paint, Carve the young Phœbus, am I therefore young? The many years of pain that taught me art ! I can write love-odes: thy fair slave's an ode. I get to sing of love, when grown too grey For being beloved: she turns to that young man, The muscles all a-ripple on his back. I know the joy of kingship — well, thou art king! That passage goes far to explain the attraction which many poets have found in the society of young people distinguished in some special degree for beauty, or grace, or vivacity. And there must not be forgotten another element in the problem, — the peculiar sweetness of admiration and praise from the young. Theocritus desired to sing songs that should win the young, and the sentiment has been echoed by the most austere of our own living poets: 'T were something yet to live among The gentle youth beloved, and where I learned The nearest parallel I can suggest to the case of Shakespeare and his young friend is the friendship between the poet Gray and Bonstetten. Bonstetten was a Swiss youth of quality, who went to Cambridge with an introduction to Gray from his friend Norton Nicholls; and the havoc he wrought in that poet's domestic affections is visible in his correspondence. He wrote to Norton Nicholls (April 4, 1770): I At length, my dear sir, we have lost our poor de Bonstetten. packed him up with my own hands in the Dover machine at four o'clock in the morning on Friday, 23rd March; the next day at seven he sailed, and reached Calais by noon, and Boulogne at night; the next night he reached Abbeville. From thence he wrote to me; and here am I again to pass my solitary evenings, which hung much lighter on my hands before I knew him. This is your fault! Pray, let the next you send me be halt and blind, dull, unapprehensive, and wrong-headed. For this (as Lady Constance says) Was never such a gracious creature born! and yet Among Gray's letters are three to Bonstetten himself; it will be sufficient to quote the shortest of them. I am returned, my dear Bonstetten, from the little journey I made into Suffolk, without answering the end proposed. The thought that you might have been with me there has embittered all my hours. Your letter has made me happy - -as happy as so gloomy, so solitary a being as I am is capable of being made. I know, and have too often felt the disadvantages I lay myself under, how much I hurt the little interest I have in you, by this air of sadness, so contrary to your nature and present enjoyments; but sure you will forgive, though you cannot sympathise with me. It is impossible with me to dissemble with you; such 1 Robert Bridges, Growth of Love. |