On sonnet XXIX

When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,

I all alone beweep my outcast state

And trouble deaf 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 29 somehow slipped me by. It wasn’t until I re-read it recently that I noticed that contained within are both all the symptoms of depression as well as its remedy. Furthermore, it is interesting as it shows the vulnerability, fragility and uncertainty of the greatest writer in the English tongue, thereby bringing him down from the Olympian heights afforded him (in unfavourable ways) by our education system and endearing him as a man.

Spurned by being ‘in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes’, leaving the author to ‘all alone beweep my outcast state’ and to ‘trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, and look upon myself and curse my fate’. One can’t help but ponder whether this is an autobiographical episode of Shakespeare’s life. And if so, what could drive the Bard of Avon to such despondency? One theory I believe suggests that this outpouring is due to a lack of work as an actor during the plagues of 1592 (?), therefore giving him time to write many of his sonnets. Although unemployment for the then young (28?) man would certainly fit in with being ‘in disgrace with fortune’, it doesn’t seem to deserve being in disgrace with ‘men’s eyes’. And for a man of Shakespeare’s scope and merit, would such a stumbling block cause such sentiments?

Another, and more interesting theory suggests that this bout of self pity is brought upon by the death-bed assault from a fellow playwright Robert Greene (died in 1592), who accused Shakespeare of being a conceited, pompous, ingratiating charlatan of an actor who dared to ‘write’ plays by plagiarising. ‘Upstart crow beautified by our feathers’ in fact. The pamphlet (Greene’s Groats-Worth of Wit) used a line from Shakespeare’s Henry VI and used the phrase ‘Shakes-scene’. Although not unanimously agreed as referring to Shakespeare, I think the majority of scholars agree that this would be the most likely scenario. This would explain Shakespeare’s being ‘in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes’ and to ‘beweep my outcast state’. The plot thickens as he then goes on to say ‘wishing to me like one more rich in hope, featured like him, like him with friends possessed. Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope, with what I enjoy most contented least.’ It fits like a glove (pun that no one will get?)! Imagining myself to be a young, ambitious, budding writer with poor education amongst university men, I would certainly be ‘wishing me like to one more rich in hope’ and ‘desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope’. If indeed he has been labelled and isolated as a plagiarist with his reputation suffered in the industry, he would envy those with ‘friends possessed’. Ironic and very touching that this sentiment would come from the quills of the preeminent man of letters. And ironic also that a man capable of writing the imperishable sonnet 18 as well as this feels himself inadequate and lowered to copying works of men who are now almost obscured by time. Also, and I think tellingly, though Shakespeare curses his fate, there is no sense of rebellion against injustice in the language, suggesting that the accusations of plagiarism may, in fact, be true. This is further corroborated by the line ‘with what I enjoy most contented least.’ – hinting that his love of writing is the source of his pains. However, as plagiarism in literature is unavoidable; one can only hope to emphasise things in a different way, this should not be held against a young playwright, the son of an illiterate glove maker, having the courage of testing his mettle amongst Oxbridge men.

Finally, touchingly and beautifully rendered, the author ‘in these thoughts myself almost despising’ is consoled by the thought of a loved one, where his ‘state, like to the lark at break of dawn arising, from sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven’s gate.’ What a beautiful image! The final couplet, resolving the whole sonnet, is slightly a let down after this but asserts the remedy of love albeit in a somewhat clichéd fashion. Although it is not clear whether Shakespeare is referring to a friend or a lover whose love has risen him above the sea of torment, the soaring quality of the penultimate couplet puts a lump in one’s throat.

Therefore, going from agitation, desolation, anxiety and anhedonia, Shakespeare finds solace in love and friendship. One can quote W.B, Yeat’s line ‘Think where man’s glory begins and ends / and say my glory was I had such friends.’ Perhaps what we want after all in life is to simply be understood and appreciated, to be approved of and desired. In return, we are willing to give as much if not ten-fold more. Perhaps this is love in its essence?