I
In any romantic relationship, perhaps the greatest fear is
that of betrayal. Betrayal not only suggests inconstancy on
the part of the betrayer, but also a sense of inadequacy in
the betrayed. Betrayal, however, can reveal the reality of
a romantic situation that may have been hidden by the romanticized
idealism of “true love.” The “rival poet'' group in Shakespeare's
sonnet sequence simultaneously sheds light on the poet's lessening
self-esteem and reveals a previously hidden strength of will.
To demonstrate this, it is first necessary to understand the
placement and the chronology of the “rival poet'' sequence.
The rival first appears in Sonnet 78 and vanishes after Sonnet
86, but the group cannot be properly understood outside of
the context of the sequence as a whole. Our perception of
the narrator-poet is drastically affected by subtle changes
in his own writing both before and after the appearance of
the rival. The poems previous to the actual appearance of
the rival are apparently optimistic in tone. In Sonnet 75,
the poet speaks of the young man as if he were a possession,
likening their relationship to that between a miser and his
wealth. At the same time he is “proud as an enjoyer,” (Sonnet
75, 5) however, there remains a nameless fear of loss. The
final couplet seems to place control of losing or keeping
the young man in phrases throughout the sonnet also foreshadow
the appearance of a rival. The poet's reference to “the peace
of you” (75, 3) speaks to a hidden insecurity in the relationship
through the double meaning of the word “peace” of the young
man. The images of theft and public exposure in the next five
lines serve as a precursor to the poet’s objections to the
rival poet.
While the next sonnet (76) is superficially a simple rhetorical
argument which justifies the repetitiveness of the poet's
argument, it points to a subconscious insecurity about the
poet's hold on the young man's affections. The language of
the first four lines could also describe the motives of an
inconstant lover. “Why is my verse so barren of new pride,/
So far from variation or quick change?/ Why with the time
do I not glance aside/ To new-found methods and to compounds
strange (76, 1-4) Words such as “new,” “variation,” “change,”
and “glance aside” have less to do with the reason the narrator
might change his poetic style and sound more like reasons
one might have for abandoning a lover. The subject of the
sonnet also suggests the young man's lack of satisfaction
with the poet's work. The final sonnet before the introduction
of the rival is interesting mainly because of the ambiguities
found within the poem. The reader would naturally assume the
addressee is the young man, but this is not at all clear.
Whomever the sonnet is directed to, he or she seems to be
a writer as well. If the recipient is the young man, the poet's
references to “thy book” and “what thy memory cannot contain,/
Commit to these waste blanks” (77, 9-10) could refer to the
fact that what belongs to the poet also belongs to the young
man. If the recipient is someone else, however, it demonstrates
the recognition of the rival. The third possibility, that
the sonnet is directed to the narrator-poet himself, forces
the reader to wonder why he is not writing to the young man,
suggesting also that the young man no longer has time for
the poet's verse. In any case, all three of these sonnets
suggest the poet's growing awareness of the tenuous nature
of his relationship with the young man.
II
The appearance of the rival in Sonnet 78 does not have as
drastic effect on the poet as one might expect. While he recognizes
that the work of a rival poet signifies a lack of response
from the young man to his own poems, he does not blame the
young man, rather, he defends the young man as a victim of
the rival. The person he faults most, in fact, is himself.
Although another poet has begun to write about the young man
because of the narrator-poet's frequent invocation of him
as an exemplary “Muse,” the poet still idealizes the young
man as a perfect inspirational force. “Thine eyes, that taught
the dumb on high to sing/ And heavy ignorance aloft to fly”
are not blamed. Instead, the poet lays the fault upon those
who abuse the young man's inspiration. The poet differentiates
himself from his rival in two ways; he contrasts their motivations
for writing and their styles of writing. The poet's reason
for writing is the naturally occurring love he feels for the
young man, while the rival, at least in the poet's view, writes
for material gain. “Every alien pen hath got my use / And
under thee their poesy disperse.” (78, 3-4) The concern of
the rival is not emotional expression, but use of the young
man for the possibility of gain. The use of the term ''alien''
not only suggests that the rival is an outsider, but that
he has no authentic claim to the inspiration of the young
man. What should remain a personal situation is “dispersed”
by the rival, a gesture which suggests not only publication
of poetry, but also dissipation of the young man's value.
The styles of the poet and the rival also conflict. The poet
focuses upon the portrayal of truth, both of the young man's
beauty and of his own emotion. Addressing the young man, he
writes, “thou art all my art.” (78, 13) In Sonnet 29, the
poet describes how the young man's beauty inspires his praise
to greater heights: “Like to the lark at break of day arising/
Front sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate.” (29, 11-12)
The rival, however, uses the young man's beauty to ornament
his words. The young man's eyes ''added feathers to the learned's
man’s wing.” In the next sonnet the poet sarcastically remarks
upon the “travail of a worthier pen” (79, 6) and casts doubt
upon the motives of the rival with frequent references to
theft and payment. The rival does not create, but rather takes
what has already been written and alters it slightly to sound
new and fresh. In reality, he gives the young man nothing
new ''But what in [he] doth live.'' (79, 12)
Sonnet 80 attacks the rival in yet another way: by exaggerating
his worthiness. The poet's hyperbole simultaneously pokes
holes in the reputation of the rival and mirrors his magnified,
overdone praise of the young man. By referring to the rival
as ''a better spirit'' (80, 2), he suggests that his praise
is insubstantial, while his comparison of the rival to a ship
of ''tall building, and of goodly pride'' (80, 12) could easily
bring images of the Spanish Armada to the young man's mind.
Only a few years earlier, England's inferior fleet had been
saved when Spain's powerful Armada had been destroyed by a
stormy sea. Such a comparison reassociates the rival with
the “alien pen'' of Sonnet 78, and also promotes the narrator-poet's
verse as victorious despite the odds. The style of the poem
seems insincere when one examines the sudden outpouring of
emotion by the poet. His claim: “O, how I faint when I of
you do write'' (80, 1) starkly contrasts with the more dignified
and reserved tone of the previous sonnets and seems to resemble
the style in which he accuses the rival of writing. By adopting
the style of the rival, the poet exaggerates and emphasizes
his superficiality.
IIIThis sonnet marks a turning point in the sequence. The
poet's description of the young man has subtly shifted from
the previous sonnets. Originally, the young man was the poet's
idealized Muse. In Stanza 79, however, the ideal becomes degraded
slightly to “my sick Muse” (79, 4). While this might only
signal a slight error in judgment on the part of the youth,
it is a large step for the poet, although it is probably a
step he is not even aware of having taken. The image of the
youth as the sea, however, presents the reader a problem.
The conventional sonnet image of the sea portrays the lover
as the ship and the beloved as the harbor toward which the
ship sails. In this instance, however, the beloved is the
ocean itself, and the challenge and struggle of attaining
the harbor are gone. Any ship can reach the ocean, and the
unfortunate implication for the poet is that any flatterer
can reach the young man. He has become, like the dark Lady
later in the sonnet sequence, “the bay where all men ride”
(137, 6).
This sonnet is also colored with similar suggestions that
the young man has been brought down from his pedestal. The
poet's words suggest potential double meanings which reveal
the growing confession in his own mind. When he points out
that “Your shallowest help will hold me up afloat” (80, 9),
there is a suggestion that the young man's help is all shallow.
Similarly, the closing line “my love was my decay” (80, 14)
simultaneously states that the poet's downfall came as a result
of his own great love and draws a comparison between the poet's
love, the youth, and decay. Almost against his will, the poet
undermines the high esteem in which he had held the young
man.
IV
The following sonnet in the sequence, 81, serves as a step
away from the previous group. Most obviously the poet separates
it by completely avoiding any mention of the rival poet. The
previous three sonnets are all concerned with demonstrating
the unworthiness of the rival poet, but this sonnet reverts
to the poet's concern with immortalizing the young man. It
may seem out of place, but it demonstrates the internal strife
the poet is undergoing as a result of the external conflict
with the rival poet. The focus of this sonnet is suggested
in the first line of the poem, in which the poet constructs
an epitaph to memorialize the young man for a time when he
“entombéd in men's eyes shall 1ie.'' (81, 8) The young
man has already lied, of course, and the ideal image of the
young man in the poet's eyes has already begun to die. The
poet's assertion that “in me each part will be forgotten”
(81, 4) could refer to the poet being forgotten after his
death or to the poet beginning to forget each apart of the
young man he knew before his betrayal.
The poet begins to realize that the young man is not the perfect
image he originally perceived. On the most basic level, if
the poet could recognize the inferiority of the rival poet's
verse, the young man's blindness toward this defect would
point out a severe failure of his character and intelligence.
On an even more important level, however, the poet is beginning
to realize that the young man's dismissal of his love may
have more to do with an imperfection in the young man than
in the poet. The poet clearly regards this idea as dangerous
and frightening.
This sonnet attempts to regain a sense of perspective and
re-establish the worth of the youth, but it is not entirely
successful. Earlier sonnets concerned with the immortality
of the young man placed this responsibility in the hands of
nature and the youth himself: “drawn by your own sweet skill”
(16, 14). By the end of Sonnet 81, however, the poet realizes
that he holds control over the preservation of the youth's
memory, ''such virtue hath my pen'' (81, 13). Another difference
between Sonnet 81 and earlier 'immortality' sonnets is the
poet's doubt about whether the strength of the young man's
worth is sufficient to preserve his memory. The last image
is not of strength, but of insubstantiality. His memory will
only live on where “breath most breathes” (81, 14).
The poet then returns to attacking the rival poet, although
his attack is blunted by the realization that even as he attacks
the rival, he is attacking the young man's fault which brought
the rivalry into being. The first line of Sonnet 82 demonstrates
his new lack of faith in the young when he claims that “I
grant thou wert not married to my Muse” (82, 1). The drastic
shift in just six sonnets is difficult to miss. The young
man began as the poet's muse before a sickness allowed him
to become the muse to other poets as well. By this point,
however, he is a separate entity from the poet's muse. The
poet is finally beginning to recognize his own input into
the creation of the sonnet sequence; his own ability allowed
him to write. He still needs to praise the young man, but
every attempt to dismiss the rival poet becomes an attack
on the youth's shortcomings as well. By pointing out the rival
poet's reliance on ornamentation, or painting, he is also
pointing out the young man's approval of such superficiality.
The poet's declaration that the young man's worth is beyond
the ''barren tender of a poet's debt'' (83, 4) would be much
stronger if the poet did not have to acknowledge his own growing
doubts that the youth was beyond such debts. Instead, he is
forced to qualify his statement by pointing out that “I found,
or thought I found'' (83, 3) such an individual.
V
The remaining three sonnets of the rival poet group switch
their focus from the rival back to the young man. Now, however,
the poet sees the youth for the real person he is. Instead
of praising him as one would a god or perfection itself, he
realizes he can say no more ''than this rich praise, that
you alone are you'' (84, 2). Also, it is no longer the subject
of his poetry which deserves praise. The poet has grown to
the recognition that ''such a counterpart shall frame his
wit/ Making his style admiréd everywhere'' (84, 11-12).
He has even moved beyond the petty jealousy he felt when he
first discovered the presence of a rival to the point where
he can acknowledge and appreciate the praise lavished on the
boy by other poets. He still considers his own poetry to be
superior to that of others because of his greater depth of
feeling, but he is able better to restrain his envy, just
as he is able to restrain his muse when he realizes that attacking
the rival will only degrade the youth as well. He has attained
a measure of self-control, and is able in the final sonnet
of the group to both praise the ''great verse'' (86, 1) of
his rival and point the finger at the true cause of his emotional
injury, the young man.
This realization allows the poet, for the second time in the
sequence, to relinquish his hold, be it real or imagined,
on the young man. Sonnets 20 and 87 both signal a recognition
of the impossibility of a relationship between the two, but
in drastically different ways, giving the reader a clear insight
into the changes the poet has undergone. Sonnet 20 is based
purely upon physical concerns, and when the poet attempts
to move beyond this physicality, he merely looks foolish.
His claim that “mine be thy love, and thy love’s use their
treasure” (20, 14) is almost comically naive and clearly shows
the poet to be completely under the sway of the young man's
influence. Sonnet 87, however, recognizes that they cannot
have a true relationship for reasons beyond the physical.
He speaks of the youth's egotism as if he is assigning a monetary
value to the boy, and his attack on the boy's vanity is difficult
to miss when he states that ''like enough thou know’st thy
estimate'' (87, 2). He recognizes the illusion the youth was
able to impose upon him as such, and the closing couplet of
the sonnet demonstrates his recognition of the dual illusions:
his power over the young man and the young man's perfection.
He has only ''had thee as a dream doth flatter / In sleep
a king, but waking no such matter'' (87, 13-14).
The poet's quick submission to the young man's charms at the
beginning of the sonnet sequence might lead one to perceive
him as weak-willed. He was not so much conquered by the young
man's beauty as he surrendered to it. With the introduction
of the rival poet, however, the narrator begins to reassert
himself into the sequence. Rather than merely allowing the
young man to betray him for another poet, he fights back,
and in so doing, shatters the young man's spell. Although
he still loves the youth, and perhaps because he loves the
youth, he recognizes that his own individuality cannot be
suppressed by his love. Oddly, this recognition of imperfection
allows for the possibility of greater perfection in the remainder
of the sequence. The introduction of the rival poet is, in
many ways, a test for the poet. It is a wake-up call which
forces him to open his eyes once again and truly see the subject
of his poetry. Without this, Shakespeare's sonnet sequence
could have easily sunk into obscurity as just a collection
of pretty words about a ''perfect being.'' Recognizing the
boy's faults makes it possible for the poet to return to the
truth instead of abstracting the boy through Petrarchan cliches.
The rival poet sequence not only allows the poet to regain
control of his free will, but also of his poetry. The cold
light of truth might reveal the flaws of the youth, but it
simultaneously reminds the poet of the true source of the
boy's beauty: that is, his reality. TBJ
