"One ought, every day at least, to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture
and, if possible, speak a few reasonable words." ~Goethe

~ also, if possible, to dwell in "a house where all's accustomed, ceremonious." ~Yeats

Monday, April 14, 2025

Sitting Down to Read Keats

KEATS READING SHAKESPEARE
~ ACCUSTOMED, CEREMONIOUS ~
1821 Portrait of John Keats
by Joseph Severn (1793-1879)
Oil on canvas ~ London, National Portrait Gallery


On Sitting Down to Read King Lear Once Again

O golden-tongued Romance with serene lute!
Fair plumed Syren! Queen of far away!
Leave melodizing on this wintry day,
Shut up thine olden pages, and be mute:
Adieu! for once again the fierce dispute,
Betwixt damnation and impassion'd clay
Must I burn through; once more humbly assay
The bitter-sweet of this Shakespearian fruit.

Chief Poet! and ye clouds of Albion,
Begetters of our deep eternal theme,
When through the old oak forest I am gone,
Let me not wander in a barren dream,
But when I am consumed in the fire,
Give me new Phoenix wings to fly at my desire.


John Keats (1795 – 1821)
[More on QK & FN]


To Humbly Assay

Keats has combined techniques from both the Petrarchan and the Spenserian sonnet forms in "On Sitting Down to Read King Lear Once Again." The sonnet is true Petrarchan in that it contains a definite octave and a definite sestet, and the rhyme scheme of the octave follows the traditional Petrarchan pattern: abbaabba. At this point, after the octave, the sonnet taks the traditional "turn," and there is a turn in the technique as well. Rather than choose any of the variable sestet patterns associated with Petrarchan sonnets, Keats switches to the Spenserian sestet rhyme scheme: cdcdee.

The sonnet concludes with another irregularity: the final line is not written in iambic pentameter (as are the first thirteen); it is in iambic hexameter, an Alexandrine appropriately split with a caesura: "Give me new Phoenix sings / to fly at my desire." Though this extra syllable is not characteristic of the Spenserian sonnet, it is characteristic of the 9-line Spenserian stanza which always concludes with an Alexandrine.

The form of any sonnet is related to its content. Of major importance in this sonnet are the apostrophes which begin both the octave ("O Golden-Tongues Romance with serene lute!") and the sestet ("Chief Poet!"). In the octave, Keats introduces the problem to be dealt with, the conflicting merits of Romance and Tragedy. The reference to Romance, in the initial apostrophe, is clear. He addresses Romance, only to bid it "Adieu!" Romance is "golden" and "fair," but the day is "wintry," so he feels compelled to turn to tragedy. The reference to tragedy is not as explicit, but surely "the fierce dispute / Betwixt damnation and impassion'd clay" is the antithesis of anything romantic.

In this sonnet, Keats identifies our human tragedy as Byron does: "we are cooped in clay." Cooped in clay and filled with passions, we only ensure our damnation if we give in to passion. I think this is the "dispute" that Keats refers to. These lines are also his description of the play King Lear, and, though the title says "to Read," the verb has now become "to burn":

Adieu! for once again the fierce dispute,
Betwixt damnation and impassion'd clay
Must I burn through; once more humbly assay
The bitter-sweet of this Shakespearian fruit.

"Burn" is the verb for the comprehension of tragedy, while in earlier lines "melodizing" is the verb of romance. Also, the poet orders Romance to "Leave melodizing." It is Romance not he who is acting, but now he must act. Tragedy does not serenade nor present itself to him -- he must "burn through" it.

The exchange of the common verb read for the startling burn takes on even more significance if we glance ahead to the final image of the Phoenix consumed in fire. Keats has chosen one of the few things we know of that is never subject to damnation. The Phoenix may suffer in death, but not in afterlife. There is no time to punish or damn the Phoenix, for it must live afresh immediately.

The final image in the octave is inescapable in its appeal to our physical taste of bitter-sweet as well as our emotional grasp on the bitter-sweetness of human tragedy. Surprisingly but appropriately, Keats has picked something earthly, something of clay with which to compare the play -- a piece of fruit. This is another surprising exchange for the more common image of the written word as immortal, a fixed monument. Of course, fruit may be immortal in the same sense that the Phoenix is -- their shared cycle of continual regeneration: flowering, ripening, falling to the ground, then beginning again.

In the sestet, the sonnet turns with the Poet's address to Shakespeare. But it is imperative to notice that the apostrophe runs on beyond the exclamation point: "Chief Poet! and ye clouds of Albion." The reference to Albion, the old Celtic and wonderfully nostalgic name for England, is the poet's way of once more including the Romance he denounced in the octave. Shakespeare and Albion, Tragedy and Poetry: he beseeches them both, recognizing that they both are "Begetters of our deep eternal theme."

Still, the reader is inclined to conclude that his vote is finally cast for tragedy. For is not the "barren dream" he wishes to avoid the very Romance he ordered to "be mute"? He wants instead the fire. He wants to "burn through" tragedy and have another chance to "fly at his desire," perhaps this time without threat of damnation. As a Phoenix he will "burn through" the "fierce dispute betwixt damnation and impassioned clay. In this way does the sestet answer the octave.

My favorite painting of King Lear:
Cordelia's Portion (c. 1866)
by Ford Madox Brown (1821 - 1893)
English painter of moral and historical subjects
loosely connected to the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood
To the left are the malevolent sisters, Goneril & Regan, staring each other down; and kneeling at their feet, the Dukes of Cornwall & Albany, Lear's corrupt sons-in-law. To the right, are the fickle Duke of Burgandy; dear Cordelia, Pure of Heart, whose "love's more richer than her tongue," and the loyal King of France. In the center is King Lear, dejected, misguided; and at his feet, the Map of the Kingdom, divided. In this painting, the Fool is only a minor character. You can see his blue hood if you look closely behind the dark - haired sister. [More on QK & FN]

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