REMARKS ON THE NATURE AND HISTORY OF THE SONNET.
In the judgment of some of the greatest poets and literary men the Sonnet is a form of poetry of very high value; in its structure a precious gem. It is of Italian origin and was invented by Petrarch in the 14th century. In his retreat at Vaucluse near Avignon he wrote the greater part of his sonnets, all devoted to the idolatry of woman—to the praise of Laura: 227 of them were written while she was living; and he continued to extol her in 90 sonnets after her death.
The laws of the sonnet are these. It has one leading subject and should end with some striking thought, or must bring to a beautiful conclusion or point the images and musings of the first lines and greater part of the poem. It has always 14 lines, falling into two unequal lobes, one of two quatrains, the other of two triplets; or in other words it is composed of four stanzas, the two first of four lines each and the two last of three lines each. Then as to the rhymes,—the first eight lines have only two rhymes, and they always in the same place,—the first, fourth, fifth and eighth lines rhyming; so also the other four. The last six lines admit of a little change, and may have either two or three rhymes; usually the four first lines have alternate rhymes, and the two last are a couplet; but even in this case the triplet form is to be preserved.
The distinction of the stanzas is made, not by a separation from each other by wider spaces, but while printed compactly by the lines 1, 5, 9, and 12, projecting to the left; as in Milton's sonnets and in the Venice edition of Petrarch in 1764. Various poets however have unwisely disregarded this rule: and have variously placed their rhymes and their lines at their pleasure. Campbell has translated a few of Petrarch's sonnets, reducing the 14 lines to 12, composed of three similar quatrains, the first and last lines of which rhyme together. But this is destroying the Sonnet.
Our admiration of Petrarch should perhaps be a little moderated; for he is full of affected turns and paradoxes and smart antitheses. Speaking of love he says, "O viva morte, O dilettoso male,"—O living death, O most beloved evil! Speaking also of its effect he says in four lines of rhyme, which may be thus translated—without rhyme—
"I find no peace, and am not the subject of war;
I fear, and hope, and also burn, and freeze;
I fly above the heavens, and walk on the earth;
I grasp nothing, and hold the universe in my arms."
Addressing a river, in which Laura washed her face, he says,
"Thou hast no rock beneath thy waves, which does not burn with the same fires, that are kindled in me." He also said, "O earth, thou art not worthy to be trodden by her feet. She deserves to adorn heaven!"
His curious stanza repeating the word dolce, sweet, 9 or 10 times may be thus translated:
"Sweet sorrow, and sweet joy, and then sweet pain,
Sweet torture, zephyr, fire, and next sweet wounds;
Sweet word, which in my ear most sweetly sounds,
Sweet anger, and sweet rage, and sweet disdain."
The sonnet in the use of Petrarch did not attain its highest dignity, for it was wholly appropriated to the praise of Laura, his love for whom whether real or fictitious has not yet been settled by the literary world. He died in 1374, aged 70.—The eminent English poet Spenser followed him after an interval of more than 200 years dying in 1598: he published 87 sonnets. Then Shakespeare, who died in 1616, published 154 sonnets; all of which by these two poets are devoted to love, but with a change of the Italian rhyme and form.
The following shows the sonnet's structure by Spenser.
"Men call you fair, and you do credit it,
For that your self ye daily such do see,
But the true fair, that is, the gentle wit
And virtuous mind is much more prais'd of me;
For all the rest, however fair it be,
Shall turn to naught, and lose that glorious hue;
But only that is permanent and free
From frail corruption, that doth flesh ensew:
That is true beauty; that doth argue you
To be divine, and born of heav'nly seed,
Deriv'd from that fair Spirit from whom all true
And perfect beauty did at first proceed:
He only fair, and what he fair hath made;
All other fair, like flow'rs, untimely fade."
It will be observed, that the last couplet is always a rhyme, which is not the fixed rule of Petrarch; and then he has changed the places of the rhymes and confused them by abolishing the stanzas.
The following is a sonnet of Shakespeare.
"O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem
By that sweet ornament which truth doth give!
The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem
For that sweet odor which doth in it live.
The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye,
As the perfumed tincture of the roses;
Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly,
When summer's breath their masked buds discloses:
But for their virtue only is their show;
They live unwoo'd, and unrespected fade;
Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so;
Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odors made:
And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth;
When that shall fade, my verse distils your truth."
Here also is an injurious change in the sonnet of Petrarch: the last couplet is always a rhyme, and it is separated in print from the 12 lines, which are very simple, composing three stanzas of distinct, alternate rhymes, much easier to compose than Spenser's or the Italian.
Milton wrote 5 sonnets in Italian, which were translated by Cowper. In them he followed Petrarch in his subject. It was in his 18 English sonnets, that he has given to this form of poetry its true elevation and dignity. Instead of applying it, like his predecessors, to love meditations, expressive of fictitious or real affection, he made it the instrument of conveying most important moral, patriotic, and religious sentiments.
The following is a sonnet of Milton, who died in 1675. It was addressed to
A VIRTUOUS YOUNG LADY.
"Lady, that in the prime of earliest youth
Wisely hast shunn'd the broad way and the green,
And with those few art eminently seen,
That labor up the hill of heav'nly truth,
The better part with Mary and with Ruth
Chosen thou hast; and they, that overween,
And at thy growing virtues fret their spleen,
No anger find in thee, but pity and ruth.
Thy care is fix'd, and zealously attends
To fill thy od'rous lamp with deeds of light,
And hope that reaps not shame. Therefore be sure
Thou, when the bridegroom with his feastful friends
Passes to bliss at the mid hour of night,
Hast gain'd thy entrance, Virgin wise and pure."
It will be seen, that he combined with his rhymes much of the freedom and force of blank verse. He never allows the absence of good strong sense nor the presence of unmeaning or useless words in order to make out the rhyme.
By printing his sonnets compactly without separating the stanzas from each other Milton carried on his sentences, as he found desirable, from stanza to stanza, frequently without any close at the end of a stanza, sometimes just beginning near the end. In this case the separation of the stanzas by spaces would evidently be absurd. Read the last five lines of his sonnet to Cromwell:—
"Peace hath her victories
No less renown'd than war: new foes arise
Threat'ning to bind our souls with sec'lar chains.—
Help us to save free conscience from the paw
Of hireling wolves, whose gospel is their maw."
Here, in the method of separating the stanzas by wider spaces in printing, the phrase "new foes arise" would have been separated from the line which follows, with which it is so intimately connected,—the head line of the last triplet.
The author may here be allowed to say, that in his judgment in the whole compass of English poetry there are no sonnets equal to a few of Milton's, numbered 8, 9, 14, 15, 18, 19, 22 and 23. If any one would know, whether Milton's meditations brought out sentiments worthy of utterance, and whether he knew how to utter them with the melody of rhyme and at the same time with the unshackled freedom and energy of blank verse, I leave with him for his refreshment the following lines from his sonnet on his own Blindness:—
"Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?"
I fondly ask: But Patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need
Either man's work, or his own gifts; who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best: his state
Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed,
And post o'er land and ocean without rest:
They also serve, who only stand and wait."
More recently Wordsworth, who died in 1850, aged 80, has followed Milton in his application of this form of poetry to higher subjects than that to which it was applied by Petrarch. A very great fault however is his abolishing Milton's method of designating the stanzas and thus showing the places of the rhymes, the pleasures of which are gone if their places are not easily found. He wrote 282 sonnets: he wrote too many; and they are often diffuse and languid. The following is one of his sonnets: it is on the Pastoral Character.
"A genial hearth, a hospitable board,
And a refined rusticity belong
To the neat mansion, where, his Flock among,
The learned Pastor dwells, their watchful Lord.
Though meek and patient as a sheathed sword,
Though pride's least lurking thought appear a wrong
To human kind; though peace be on his tongue,
Gentleness in his heart; can earth afford
Such genuine state, pre-eminence so free,
As when, array'd in Christ's authority,
He from the pulpit lifts his awful hand;
Conjures, implores, and labors all he can
For re-subjecting to divine command
The stubborn spirit of rebellious man?"
The readers of poetry ought to feel much indebted to Mr. Wordsworth for his remarks in regard to the language of poetry, and in regard to the value of enkindled emotions. In his judgment, there ought not to be a distinct poetic diction, separate from the language of good prose; the poet should aim at good sense and intelligible diction, using the language of men, abandoning "a large portion of phrases and figures of speech, which from father to son have long been regarded as the common inheritance of poets," and even abstaining from many good expressions, which bad poets have so foolishly and perpetually repeated, as to render them disgusting. As illustrating his meaning, he quotes from a sonnet of Gray;—
"In vain to me the smiling mornings shine,
And reddening Phœbus lifts his golden fire:
The birds in vain their amorous descants join,
Or cheerful fields resume their green attire:
These ears, alas! for other notes repine."
Here this false diction destroys the value of every line.
The other remark of Mr. Wordsworth is this;—"all good poetry is the spontaneous overflow of good feelings." Perhaps it might be also said, that in addition to sensibility and impassioned expression there should be chosen, for the highest poetry, subjects of moral dignity and religious interest, having a close bearing on human welfare not only for a moment but for perpetuity.