Shakespeare didn’t compare his lover to the sun and that’s exactly the point
My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips’ red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.
Sonnet 130, written by Shakespeare, is an avant-garde piece of literature that brings to light a canon of unprecedented and rule-breaking comparisons.
The inaugural line of the octave, “My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the Sun,” connotes that his supposed lover’s eyes have but a radiance easily eclipsed by that of the sun. The orthodox poet, as opposed to the aforementioned line, would deem it unworthy to belittle his lover’s attributes in any context, and would instead produce a much more traditional line, one whose meaning is inverted to that of Shakespeare’s.
“Coral is redder than her lips’ red;”
The line quoted continues to elevate the poet’s unorthodox approach to normal comparison, depicting that his lover’s lips were much less red than that of a coral, a material which by itself does not characterise a redness worthy of poetic comparison. Shakespeare’s choice of coral is deliberate, and it is an object commonplace enough to undercut any romantic idealism, producing in the reader a sense of deflation where elevation is expected. In other works of literature, a reader would come across numerous instances where poets have compared lips to much esteemed redness, let alone corals, and have elevated the comparison to an idealism of its own.
“I grant I never saw a goddess go; My mistress when she walks treads on the ground,”
The above quoted lines in their singularity bring about a myriad of deflections from the poetic conventions of the time, as far as comparisons are concerned, especially alluding to a woman whose humanity is laid bare rather than mythologised, stripping away the divine pedestal that conventional poetry so readily constructed.
The poet had never been able to spot a deity walk, partly because he had never wanted to look for whether they exist, or partly because they are not existential in reality at all. Either way, the presumed walk of a goddess is ideally an idyllic or a magical one, probably worthy of a woman of divine beauty. Shakespeare, through his then bold and debatable eye, sees his mistress’ walk much closer to that of an unhurried, earthly tread, the fabled moonwalk of a woman now juxtaposed to that of a modest and unassuming mere thumping devoid of feline grace. The significance here lies not in cruelty but in honesty; Shakespeare cannot compare what he has never witnessed, and so instead grounds his mistress firmly in the real world. This is divergence from convention at its best, and it is almost paradoxical that his woman’s walk is compared to and contrasted by a walk of a goddess, one that no mortal had ever set eyes upon before.
“I love to hear her speak, yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasant sound”
A woman’s voice is traditionally associated with melodious musicality and is almost always expected to be soothing and heavenly to a man’s ears. The poet asserts that he loves to hear her speak but introduces an epiphany: “Yet well I know,” denoting that his enlightenment would surely diminish his liking of her speech, and the next immediate line goes on to confirm this. Shakespeare boldly confesses that music is far more melodious, far more enticing and enrapturing.
Finally, it can be attested that such idyllic and fantastical romance does not have a place in Shakespeare’s vision of love, for it is in honest, unadorned affection, free of hollow comparisons, that he locates something far more enduring than idealism ever could.
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