The first line of this sonnet brings immediate recall of Kate Winslet reading it as Marianne in Ang Lee's film. 'Sense and Sensibility' was my introduction to both the sonnet and Jane Austen. My siblings and I were immersed in an ultra-conservative religious homeschooling program, a program that portrayed novel reading as spiritually unhealthy and frowned on film - it must be said our parents hadn't imposed any such ideas on us, but the program material we read conveyed it to us nonetheless. An aunt recommended the S&S film, knowing we only watched a 'family friendly' films. We loved it. Afterward, I pulled 'Pride and Predjudice' off my father's shelf, and thus began our teenage rebellion - reading and watching the works of Jane Austen.
I didn't care much for the sonnet then - none of us sympathized outwardly with Marianne. A cousin gifted with a sarcastic wit used to quip "O Willoughby, Willoughby!" as a signal that someone was being over dramatic. So I was totally guilty of thinking this sonnet sentimental and cliched.
I find it interesting that the other poem given a reading, though not to Marianne's taste, in that film is William Cowper's 'The Castaway', which conveys Cowper's deep spiritual melancholy, repeatedly worrying if he was saved or not, something his friend John Newton had to help him with. Interesting to think Austen would have been a younger contemporary of them.
I noticed this time while reading the sonnet that the second quatrain is nautical themed and I wanted to know what this meant: "Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken". I found this: https://maritimearchaeologytrust.org/tonnage-applied-ships/. It seems tonnage - ship cargo was taxed by tonnage - was calculated by measuring the hull dimensions. So the metaphor is of a ship valued by the weight of its cargo, even though the cargo itself - whether it is rocks or precious jewels, wheat or chaff, is unknown.
Thank you for bringing that note about the boat. That is so interesting. The fact that (I think) the phrase “whose worth…” can, grammatically, apply to both the bark or the star (something I hadn’t realized before) is ingenious on Shakespeare’s part. Of course, I could be reading it wrong! Either way, it’s a fetching turn of phrase—again that interplay between objective and subjective, what is known and what is unknown.
Oh! I hadn't thought of it, that it could be the star, whose measurements are taken but the destination of the course set is unclear. Maybe it is both. Or perhaps, Shakespeare wrote more meaning than he first intended. I've done that, spoken or written a phrase intending one thing and then realizing it could be understood to have a deeper double meaning.
Dorothy L. Sayers might call it another example of free will acting in concert with the Idea. In the chapter "Free Will and Miracle" in Dorothy L. Sayers' 'The Mind of the Maker' talks about a plot point that turned out to have a double meaning in her mystery 'Gaudy Night', saying she had no intention when she first used the point for character development that it would also drive the mystery forward. She concluded, "it was not until my reader pointed it out to me that I understood the incident to have been, in actual fact, predestined - that is, that plot and character, each running true to its nature, had inevitably united to bring the thing about." Shakespeare might have been just trying to get that fourth line of the second quatrain to carry the theme in the right meter.
This is SUCH a beautiful sonnet - having just heard last week that my wife, Anna, has Hodgkin's Lymphoma (hopefully treatable, we're still waiting to discover) the lines 'Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks/But bears it out even to the edge of doom' hold a special resonance just now, a holy aspiration (albeit I'm rather hoping 'doom' isn't quite what we're looking at). Love the whole thing and really appreciate what you've written about it, Karen. It ought to have a place inside every Valentine's card ever sent! Also, that adaptation of S&S was the first Austen I ever encountered - loved it - and it remains the only Austen I've ever read (I know, I know, I WILL get to the rest sometime...maybe).
Thank you so much, Karen, we really appreciate that. First haematology appointment in a week's time where we hope to get a better picture. Funnily enough re Austen I had Persuasion in mind, not that I know the first thing about it, only its title! I have the Delphi collected works of Austen on Kindle which makes it really easy to access.
I just subscribed and read your wonderful essay on the sonnet I know best.
I officiated at my brother-in-law's wedding in Lake Tahoe after receiving a one use $25 officiant's license. The one quote I deployed was "Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds." I think of this line as calling for perspective.
A marriage of minds or otherwise will only last a long time if one can see the inevitable storms as miniature marks of deviations in a very long line. When you're in the midst of a tempest, sensibility will call it an irrevocable catastrophe while sense will remember that in all liklihood the marriage has been through worse.
Very much looking forward to reading more of your work.
Such an honor to have you here, David! I recently stumbled upon your substack on finding your calling at a late age—something I am doing as well and which I describe in my first post here, “I am the Prioress of my Soul.” I was taken by that post of yours first and then read that you mainly write about literature! Sold! (Readers, do check out David’s substack!)
I love your comment about that central idea of the poem: the marriage of true minds and the perspective that brings to earthly tempests. Thank you.
Thank you for your insight! I am 99% certain that I read and probably memorized this sonnet in high school but it is good to be reintroduced and retaught it as an adult.
I am fascinated by the painting's blending of a storm-tossed sea with a bright moon (or possibly sun) shining through a break in the clouds. An excellent metaphor for life in general and the Christian life in particular. Thank you!
There are certain religious writings written so beautifully, so well, that they deserve literary appreciation, not just religious affirmation. The 1559 Book of Common Prayer is one of them, and your readers may want to know that it has allusions, also, in Much Ado about Nothing. (Richard Hooker's sermon on justification by faith is another great piece of writing.)
I created a course called Christian literature that is based on an anthology of 2000 years’ worth of Christian literature. The book of common prayer is included (excerpts).
Oh might you do it on substack - sounds really interesting ?
I very much enjoying re reading the sonnets and was wondering whether it was fair to say that English literature was in a rut at the time of the morality plays when compared with the Canterbury tales and Shakespeare.
By the way I have just discovered that Harry Bailey , the host in the Canterbury tales, was real, ran a well known inn and also a member of Parliament. He was a good friend of Chaucer and was almost certainly put in the tales as a joke between them. This blows my mind
You might be on to something about the quality of mid-16th Century literature. The early century had Thomas More's Utopia, and in the mid-century, Sir Thomas Wyatt and Henry Howard were starting the English obsession with the Italian sonnet form. I wouldn't minimize the interest a reader can have in the morality plays--I'm sort of a nerd about them--but the really good stuff in the century begins in the late 1580s, and the 1590s could be one of literature's best decades: Shakespeare, Marlowe, Spenser, Donne, and many others.
The first line of this sonnet brings immediate recall of Kate Winslet reading it as Marianne in Ang Lee's film. 'Sense and Sensibility' was my introduction to both the sonnet and Jane Austen. My siblings and I were immersed in an ultra-conservative religious homeschooling program, a program that portrayed novel reading as spiritually unhealthy and frowned on film - it must be said our parents hadn't imposed any such ideas on us, but the program material we read conveyed it to us nonetheless. An aunt recommended the S&S film, knowing we only watched a 'family friendly' films. We loved it. Afterward, I pulled 'Pride and Predjudice' off my father's shelf, and thus began our teenage rebellion - reading and watching the works of Jane Austen.
I didn't care much for the sonnet then - none of us sympathized outwardly with Marianne. A cousin gifted with a sarcastic wit used to quip "O Willoughby, Willoughby!" as a signal that someone was being over dramatic. So I was totally guilty of thinking this sonnet sentimental and cliched.
I find it interesting that the other poem given a reading, though not to Marianne's taste, in that film is William Cowper's 'The Castaway', which conveys Cowper's deep spiritual melancholy, repeatedly worrying if he was saved or not, something his friend John Newton had to help him with. Interesting to think Austen would have been a younger contemporary of them.
I noticed this time while reading the sonnet that the second quatrain is nautical themed and I wanted to know what this meant: "Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken". I found this: https://maritimearchaeologytrust.org/tonnage-applied-ships/. It seems tonnage - ship cargo was taxed by tonnage - was calculated by measuring the hull dimensions. So the metaphor is of a ship valued by the weight of its cargo, even though the cargo itself - whether it is rocks or precious jewels, wheat or chaff, is unknown.
What a wonderful rebellion—reading Jane Austen!
Thank you for bringing that note about the boat. That is so interesting. The fact that (I think) the phrase “whose worth…” can, grammatically, apply to both the bark or the star (something I hadn’t realized before) is ingenious on Shakespeare’s part. Of course, I could be reading it wrong! Either way, it’s a fetching turn of phrase—again that interplay between objective and subjective, what is known and what is unknown.
Oh! I hadn't thought of it, that it could be the star, whose measurements are taken but the destination of the course set is unclear. Maybe it is both. Or perhaps, Shakespeare wrote more meaning than he first intended. I've done that, spoken or written a phrase intending one thing and then realizing it could be understood to have a deeper double meaning.
I always assume Shakespeare’s cleverness is intentional but I’m sure sometimes it’s not! 😄
Dorothy L. Sayers might call it another example of free will acting in concert with the Idea. In the chapter "Free Will and Miracle" in Dorothy L. Sayers' 'The Mind of the Maker' talks about a plot point that turned out to have a double meaning in her mystery 'Gaudy Night', saying she had no intention when she first used the point for character development that it would also drive the mystery forward. She concluded, "it was not until my reader pointed it out to me that I understood the incident to have been, in actual fact, predestined - that is, that plot and character, each running true to its nature, had inevitably united to bring the thing about." Shakespeare might have been just trying to get that fourth line of the second quatrain to carry the theme in the right meter.
Oh, Sayers here describes perfectly how I think it often works.
This is SUCH a beautiful sonnet - having just heard last week that my wife, Anna, has Hodgkin's Lymphoma (hopefully treatable, we're still waiting to discover) the lines 'Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks/But bears it out even to the edge of doom' hold a special resonance just now, a holy aspiration (albeit I'm rather hoping 'doom' isn't quite what we're looking at). Love the whole thing and really appreciate what you've written about it, Karen. It ought to have a place inside every Valentine's card ever sent! Also, that adaptation of S&S was the first Austen I ever encountered - loved it - and it remains the only Austen I've ever read (I know, I know, I WILL get to the rest sometime...maybe).
Oh, Richard. I am sorry to hear this news. I am praying right now and will continue to pray for good news to follow this news.
If I can vote for your next Austen, I vote for Persuasion.
Thank you so much, Karen, we really appreciate that. First haematology appointment in a week's time where we hope to get a better picture. Funnily enough re Austen I had Persuasion in mind, not that I know the first thing about it, only its title! I have the Delphi collected works of Austen on Kindle which makes it really easy to access.
Persuasion is probably Austen’s most mature work. It’s perfect for a season of waiting and uncertainty.
I just subscribed and read your wonderful essay on the sonnet I know best.
I officiated at my brother-in-law's wedding in Lake Tahoe after receiving a one use $25 officiant's license. The one quote I deployed was "Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds." I think of this line as calling for perspective.
A marriage of minds or otherwise will only last a long time if one can see the inevitable storms as miniature marks of deviations in a very long line. When you're in the midst of a tempest, sensibility will call it an irrevocable catastrophe while sense will remember that in all liklihood the marriage has been through worse.
Very much looking forward to reading more of your work.
Such an honor to have you here, David! I recently stumbled upon your substack on finding your calling at a late age—something I am doing as well and which I describe in my first post here, “I am the Prioress of my Soul.” I was taken by that post of yours first and then read that you mainly write about literature! Sold! (Readers, do check out David’s substack!)
I love your comment about that central idea of the poem: the marriage of true minds and the perspective that brings to earthly tempests. Thank you.
Thank you for your insight! I am 99% certain that I read and probably memorized this sonnet in high school but it is good to be reintroduced and retaught it as an adult.
Oh, I love to read this! Thank you for letting me know about this re-introduction to this beautiful sonnet!
I am fascinated by the painting's blending of a storm-tossed sea with a bright moon (or possibly sun) shining through a break in the clouds. An excellent metaphor for life in general and the Christian life in particular. Thank you!
I couldn’t find a good image with a star! 😅
There are certain religious writings written so beautifully, so well, that they deserve literary appreciation, not just religious affirmation. The 1559 Book of Common Prayer is one of them, and your readers may want to know that it has allusions, also, in Much Ado about Nothing. (Richard Hooker's sermon on justification by faith is another great piece of writing.)
I created a course called Christian literature that is based on an anthology of 2000 years’ worth of Christian literature. The book of common prayer is included (excerpts).
Oh might you do it on substack - sounds really interesting ?
I very much enjoying re reading the sonnets and was wondering whether it was fair to say that English literature was in a rut at the time of the morality plays when compared with the Canterbury tales and Shakespeare.
By the way I have just discovered that Harry Bailey , the host in the Canterbury tales, was real, ran a well known inn and also a member of Parliament. He was a good friend of Chaucer and was almost certainly put in the tales as a joke between them. This blows my mind
You might be on to something about the quality of mid-16th Century literature. The early century had Thomas More's Utopia, and in the mid-century, Sir Thomas Wyatt and Henry Howard were starting the English obsession with the Italian sonnet form. I wouldn't minimize the interest a reader can have in the morality plays--I'm sort of a nerd about them--but the really good stuff in the century begins in the late 1580s, and the 1590s could be one of literature's best decades: Shakespeare, Marlowe, Spenser, Donne, and many others.
Which is really interesting as it would be the twilight of the Elizabethan age rather than its height
Oooohhh…that’s an interesting idea…I think having the text would be necessary since it has so many particular selections. Let me think about this…
I recall that Harry Bailey was a real person but didn’t know he was an MP. I bet one could spend a lifetime finding Easter eggs like this in Chaucer!
Gosh yes!