et stanza, there being but
three sonnets, properly so called, in the series. The poems are six in
number, terminating each with an appropriate _envoi_, and are addressed,
the first five to the poet's friend, "W.H.," and the sixth to his
mistress. That friend must have been very young, very handsome, of high
birth and fortune; and to all this the description of William Herbert
exactly answers. The divisions made by Mr. Brown are as follows: First
poem, 1 to 26--to his friend, persuading him to marry. Second poem, 27
to 55--to his friend, who had robbed the poet of his mistress, forgiving
him. Third poem, 56 to 77--to his friend, complaining of his coldness,
and warning him of life's decay. Fourth poem, 78 to 101--to his friend,
complaining that he prefers another poet's praises, and reproving him
for faults that may injure his character. Fifth poem, 102 to 126--to his
friend, excusing himself for having been some time silent, and
disclaiming the charge of inconstancy. Sixth poem, 127 to 152--to his
mistress, on her infidelity. In this last poem, says Mr. Brown,
we find the whole tenor to be "hate of my sin grounded on sinful
loving." However the poet may waver, and for the moment seem to return
to his former thralldom, indignation at the faithlessness of his
mistress and at her having been, through treachery, the cause of his
estrangement from a friend, at the last completely conquers his sinful
loving. "For myself," continues Mr. Brown, "I confess I have not the
heart to blame him at all, purely because he so keenly reproaches
himself for his own sin and folly. Fascinated as he was, he did not,
like other poets similarly guilty, directly or by implication obtrude
his own passions on the world as reasonable laws. Had such been the
case, he might have merited our censure, possibly our contempt."

Having thus glanced over the work of the principal commentators upon the
Sonnets, let us try the simple plan of reading them as we read
Tennyson's _In Memoriam_, for instance, or the _Sonnets from the
Portuguese_, by Mrs. Browning. In Mr. R.G. White's admirable edition of
Shakespeare he confesses that he has no opinion upon the subject: "Mr.
Thomas Thorpe appears in his dedication as the Sphinx of literature, and
thus far he has not met his Oedipus." But herein have we not the main
difficulty stated? The first great error committed by almost all
students of the Sonnets, if we may be pardoned the opinion, is to take
it for granted