Race, Class and Gender Discrimination in Othello
Introduction: The Causes and Effects of Discrimination
It is significant that the theme of Iago's drinking song is the unfair privilege of the elite: King Stephen's abusive attempt to reduce the price of his breeches, even though they "cost him but a crown" in the first place, shows how those "of high renown" tend to ride roughshod over those "of low degree," thus illustrating the song's message that "'tis pride that pulls the country down" (2.3.89-96).[1] Cassio's reaction to the song underlines the injustice of the hierarchical order which it satirises, while at the same time hinting at the innate self-love by which this order is sustained. He agrees that those who abuse their position are "unworthy of [their] place," but after claiming that he himself is more likely than his high-handed superiors to be "saved" by a just God, he snubs Iago when he expresses a similar hope, declaring that "the lieutenant is to be sav'd before the ancient" (2.3.100-10).[2] Cassio is perhaps typical of the gentlemanly class in that he is prepared to protest against the arbitrariness of the established hierarchy only where he himself might experience injustice: when it comes to defending his own status, he proudly insists that the hierarchy is underwritten by divine authority.
The play implicitly endorses Iago's view that he deserves to become Othello's lieutenant. Indeed, so loyal has been his service in Rhodes and Cyprus that "three great ones of the city" have begged Othello to appoint him to this role, thus indicating that the established order is by no means entirely unjust, even though discrimination is clearly rife (1.1.28-30, 1.1.8-11). As Iago comes to understand, Cassio owes his appointment, not to any military expertise, but to the fact that he moves in the same aristocratic circles as Brabantio (for the latter's elite status, see 1.1.102-04 and 1.3.50-51). Capitalising on his frequent invitations to stay at the senator's house, Cassio often "went between" Othello and Desdemona when they were courting, having known about the relationship "from first to last": Desdemona reminds Othello that "so many a time, when I have spoke of you dispraisingly, [he] hath ta'en your part" (3.3.94-100, 3.3.70-73). Whereas Brabantio's acceptance of the Florentine Cassio as a regular guest implies that the class system may transcend immediate political boundaries, non-gentlemen like Iago are clearly even further beyond the pale than Moors, for it is unimaginable that Othello's ancient should ever be a guest at Desdemona's house, even occasionally, as seems to have been the case with Othello himself.
Cassio's assumption that Iago's witty and cynical categorisation of women is symptomatic of his coarse breeding exemplifies the condescension of the gentlemanly class: "He speaks home, madam. You may relish him more in the soldier than in the scholar" (2.1.165-66).[3] In the same conversation Cassio feels that he has to explain to Iago that his "bold show of courtesy" in kissing Emilia is perfectly acceptable in well-bred society (2.1.97-99). Iago's irritation is probably compounded by the fact that Cassio treats the aristocratic Desdemona rather more respectfully, merely kissing his own fingers repeatedly, while smiling and "tak[ing] her by the palm" (2.1.167-77, 2.1.253-54). (The difference in class between the two women is underlined by Othello's request that Emilia should "attend on" Desdemona in Cyprus: later we see her bringing her mistress her "nightly wearing" and making her bed -1.3.296-97, 4.3.15-16, 4.3.22).
Thus, Othello's decision not to promote Iago as his lieutenant is clearly only the most egregious of the many routine snubs which the latter has had to endure. We join him just at the moment when "his accumulating resentments at his inferior position have become explosive, so that he imagines slights from every direction."[4] It is no coincidence that one of Iago's most spiteful soliloquies is delivered immediately after one of Cassio's most condescending remarks: he determines to "ensnare" the lieutenant precisely through the characteristic shows of "courtesy," in which he demonstrates that he is "most apt to play the sir" (2.1.165-77).[5] Iago's malevolent scheme is designed to enable him to avenge himself almost as spitefully on Cassio as on Othello, while at the same time providing various incidental opportunities to demean his new lieutenant, such as when he compares him, to his face, to an "offenseless dog" which is nevertheless beaten (2.3.274-75).
The malign effects of class prejudice are also illustrated by the story of Roderigo, who is a gentleman, but clearly not of the highest echelons, for Brabantio has forbidden him even to see his Desdemona, threatening that his "spirits and...place have in their power" to punish the frustrated lover if he persists in courting his daughter (1.1.96-104). Perhaps if Roderigo had at least been allowed to plead his suit, he might have understood that he could never persuade Desdemona to love him. As it is, his relatively low status forces him to use a go-between to contact his beloved, at least as he imagines, rather in the same way as Othello has been forced to use Cassio, thus enabling Iago to convince him that Desdemona has given him "expectations and comforts of sudden respect and acquaintance" (4.2.186-90).
Cassio is able to exert power over Bianca because of her gender as well as her low social status. He contributes in no small measure to his own persecution, since he does indeed treat his mistress with "the fleers, the gibes, and notable scorns" that Iago predicts (4.1.82-83). He leads Bianca to believe that he loves her, but in private breaks into an "excess of laughter" whenever he recalls how she "dotes on" him (3.4.171, 3.4.196, 4.1.95-99). He orders her bluntly to perform menial tasks, summoning and dismissing her casually without any regard for her feelings: "I do attend here on the general, and think it no addition...to have him see me woman'd" (3.4.173-80, 3.4.191-95). After dismissing her as a "poor caitiff," a "monkey...," a "bauble" and a mere "customer," whom he would never dream of marrying, he eventually determines that he "must leave her company" (4.1.107-44). Paradoxically perhaps, Cassio's affair with Bianca indicates that his nature is relatively unerotic, since it shows that he prioritises self-regard and sensual desire over intimate attachments. It is characters like these, the play suggests, who are the chief purveyors of systemic discrimination.
The play undoubtedly deals with sexism almost as centrally as it explores discrimination relating to class and race. Iago plays on stock misogynistic themes when he criticises his wife for chattering, vanity, hypocrisy, viciousness and wantonness (2.1.103-15). He goes on to imply that intelligence matters little in a woman, as long as she is "fair," and to suggest that virtuous women are fit only "to suckle fools, and chronicle small beer" (2.1.135-37, 2.1.148-60). He is suspicious of Emilia when he finds her out alone, and tries to insist that she stay at home (3.3.300, 5.2.194, 5.2.223). The frequently "chide[d]" Emilia's efforts to please Iago earn nothing more from him than a condescending acknowledgement that she has been a "good wench" (3.3.301, 3.3.313). It is telling, moreover, that Iago is able to create suspicion in Othello's mind simply by pointing out that Desdemona transgressed against her assigned role in the patriarchal order in deceiving her father (3.3.206-08). Ironically, the very passion and independence of mind which encouraged Desdemona to choose Othello over his high-status rivals ultimately lend weight to the insinuation that she lacks decorous modesty and self-restraint.
Othello is vulnerable to Iago's machinations partly because he faces a similar level of prejudice, albeit on grounds of race rather than class. Brabantio, who has hitherto apparently "loved" him and "oft" welcomed him as a guest, promptly brands him a "foul thief" and insists that he must have charmed Desdemona into submission, as soon as he has been informed that this "old black ram is tupping [his] white ewe" (1.3.128-31, 1.1.171-74, 1.2.62-81, 1.3.94-106, 1.1.88-92). Brabantio is utterly mystified by his daughter's attachment to Othello, since, without being "deficient, blind, or lame of sense," she has apparently "fall[en] in love with what she fear'd to look on," in defiance of "years, of country, credit, every thing" (1.3.63, 1.3.94-98). Once the match has been confirmed, he announces that he will feel "despised" and "bitter..." for the rest of his days, and soon dies of "pure grief" (1.1.160-62, 5.2.204-06).
Othello himself is neither shocked nor angered by Brabantio's reaction, presumably because long experience has taught him to expect it (1.2.59-91, 1.3.114-26). It is of course this experience which leads him to conduct his affair with Desdemona secretly, using Cassio as a go-between.[6] Othello well understands that he is tolerated by the "signiory" purely because of his military "services" (1.2.18-19; see also 1.2.87-93). Before marrying Desdemona, he has presumably calculated that the Duke is bound to exonerate him from Brabantio's accusations precisely because he stands in immediate need of these services (1.3.48-228). Although this calculation proves to be correct, Brabantio's fury nevertheless confirms that Othello's position is ultimately similar to Iago's: he too could never be fully accepted by the Venetian elite, however much credit he earns through dutiful service. It is significant that "they do command him home, deputing Cassio in his government," as soon as his military leadership is no longer required (4.1.236-37).
In sum, Shakespeare is far from underrating the malign consequences of systemic racism, sexism and classism. Iago, Bianca and Othello are all severely impeded by their relatively inferior status, whether in their personal or professional life, or in both, as in Othello's case. Cassio's unthinking snobbery shows that chauvinism is endemic in society, since it is rooted in self-love, which is one of the key constituents of human nature.
The Loving Response to Prejudice
Bianca faces systemic prejudice and exploitation, but, despite her suspicions that Cassio is unfaithful, and the demeaning way in which her lover dismisses her whenever her presence is inconvenient (see above), she counts the hours he has been away, and ruefully accepts the chance to be escorted by him, even "but a little way": "'Tis very good; I must be circumstanc'd" (3.4.172-201). Her devotion to her fickle beloved runs much deeper than her pride: "she hangs, and lolls, and weeps upon me; so hales and pulls me" (4.1.139-40).[7] In Iago's cynical words, she "dotes on Cassio," having suffered "the strumpet's plague to beguile many and be beguil'd by one" (4.1.95-97). In direct contrast with Othello, Bianca forgives Cassio, even though she is convinced that he is unfaithful to her: she concludes her angry tirade anticlimactically, by inviting him to "come to supper to-night," adding desperately, "an' you will not, come when you are next prepar'd for" (4.1.146-61). The contrast with Othello is sharpened by the parallels between the two situations: she too has leapt to a similar, equally mistaken conclusion on the evidence of the same handkerchief. Shakespeare perhaps added Bianca to his source material precisely to provide this thematic contrast.[8] Such additions often provide clues as to his underlying intentions.
Bianca is absolutely terrified that she might lose Cassio after he has been wounded by Iago, as is indicated by her "pale[ness]," "shak[ing]" and "gastness of...eye" (5.1.105-07, 5.1.118). At the same time, however, her need for him naturally generates a sympathetic care which overrides her concern for herself. The overwhelming worry which his injuries cause her-- "O my dear Cassio, my sweet Cassio! O Cassio, Cassio, Cassio!"--leads her to observe his condition in minute detail, and, it is implied, "labor" desperately to revive him: "Alas, he faints! O Cassio, Cassio, Cassio!" (5.1.76-77, 5.1.84, 5.1.100-01). Although in a literal sense clearly mendacious, Bianca's insistence that she is "no strumpet, but of life as honest as you that thus abuse me" cannot simply be dismissed, for she has a far greater fund of humble, passionate devotion than most of the characters, and this, I will argue, is how the play defines true virtue (5.1.122-23). It is surely no coincidence that her name means 'white' or 'pure.'
Desdemona's attachment to Othello is of course the main example of such devotion in the play. Othello's assumption that she "lov'd [him] for the dangers [he] had pass'd," which she "did pity," shows that he is a long way from understanding the true depth of her need and care for him (1.3.167-68).[9] Her own formulation is much more penetrating: "My heart's subdu'd even to the very quality of my lord" (1.3.250-51). The vagueness of this phrase--Othello's "quality" means nothing more than his unique 'suchness'--suggests that Desdemona experiences her attachment as an overriding, intuited given, a summum bonum which is beyond analysis. Far from being motivated by an admiration for his deeds, as Othello assumes, the "consecrat[ion]" of her "soul and fortunes" to her beloved's "honors and his valiant parts" is a duty imposed by this prior intuition, as binding, she implies, as religious devotion (1.3.253-54). Insofar as "the rites for why [she] love[s] him" are sexual, her physical desires would doubtless be "subdu'd" in the same manner as all her other passions to her yearning for the satisfactions of a perfectly harmonious union: she tells us that she "saw Othello's visage in his mind," implying that his age and unprepossessing appearance are unimportant to her (1.3.257, 1.3.252).
Despite what Iago claims, Desdemona's clandestine affair and elopement with her beloved bear all the hallmarks of a deeply passionate nature. She has sacrificed a prestigious social position for what she hopes will be the supreme good of an enduring intimacy with her beloved. As she is keenly aware, her "downright violence, and storm of fortunes...trumpet to the world" the intransigence of her disreputable attachment in a manner that is bound to be widely censured (1.3.249-50). Having "shunn'd the wealthy curled darlings of our nation," who offered her several "noble matches," appearing all the while to be "opposite to marriage," she has in the end risked "incur[ring] a general mock" by her preference for a "sooty bosom," a preference which she has exercised "in spite...of years...country, credit, every thing" (1.2.67-70, 4.2.125, 1.2.70, 1.3.97). It is clear that she has made a mature choice to renounce the world as she has known it, leaving her "father...her country...and her friends" in order to pursue her ruling passion: later she tells Othello with regard to Brabantio, "if you have lost him, why, I have lost him too," in an effort to reassure him that she would take his side in any dispute with the Venetian elite (4.2.126, 4.2.44-47). Certainly, the "subdu[ing]" of her heart to Othello's "quality" happens to conform to patriarchal convention, but in this respect that convention simply echoes the innate imperatives of deep attachment, which, as the example of Bianca implies, naturally entails dutiful humility.[10]
Desdemona's intransigent devotion to Othello suggests that those who are capable of recognising and pursuing their deepest needs generally remain unaffected by the prejudices which characterise their more self-loving counterparts, since these needs naturally override any concern to preserve or advance their status within the conventional hierarchy. It is no coincidence that in her distress Desdemona empathises with a jilted "maid call'd Barbary," a low-status woman, possibly black, whose name literally means 'foreign' or 'strange' (4.3.26-33).[11] She seems to approach all her relationships in the same passionate and humble spirit, as is suggested by the way in which she treats Emilia as a trusted peer rather than a servant -thus, as the final scene confirms, winning the latter's unwavering devotion (4.3.23-105).[12] It is telling that Emilia is clearly not used to being simply "dismiss[ed]" in the way that Othello orders Desdemona to do at the end of the play (4.3.14-17).
The ready sympathy which Desdemona offers Cassio supports Iago's view that she is "as fruitful as the free elements," dispensing the largesse of her loving kindness to all those with whom she is acquainted: she tells him, "If I do vow a friendship, I'll perform it to the last article," adding that she would "rather die than give [his] cause away" (2.3.341-42, 3.3.7-28; see also 3.3.41-83, 3.1.43-44).[13] She is no doubt grateful for the role that he played in her courtship, and proceeds on the basis that trusting attachments are built on exchanges of diligent care. She spares a tear for Cassio when she is told that he is dead, even though she must know at this point that her grief will exacerbate Othello's wrath (5.1.73-77).[14]
Desdemona's passionate nature also impels her to respond much less resentfully to much more grievous injustices than Iago ever experiences. When Othello first rebukes her, she cannot prevent herself from "arraigning his unkindness with [her] soul," yet she soon succeeds in controlling her natural impulse to assert herself, reflecting that he has many other cares to contend with (3.4.140-54). As with Bianca, who invites Cassio to supper after raging at him, Desdemona's devotion clearly entails enormous self-restraint: after indignantly rebutting the charge that she is a "strumpet," and fuming over the injustice of Othello's accusations for a while, even declaring at one point that she has lost her husband, she eventually decides that she must strive "to win my lord again," while insisting that his "unkindness may defeat my life, but never taint my love," and that she will " love him dearly" even if "he do shake me off to beggarly divorcement" (4.1.148-61, 4.2.81-85, 4.2.101-09, 4.2.149-61).[15] Her attachment is too vital to her deepest interests ever to be abandoned: it "doth so approve him, that even his stubbornness, his checks, his frowns...have grace and favor in them" (4.3.19-21). Her intransigent humility stems from her pursuit of the ultimate good of "a complete fusion of identity" with Othello, as one critic puts it.[16]
Unlike the lover in her song, who declares, "If I court moe women, you'll couch with moe men," Desdemona would never seek to requite Othello for his cruelty, for her love remains unalterable, despite his persecution of her (4.3.57).[17] Iago happens to describe her perfectly in his portrayal of a "deserving" woman, though he cannot understand the underlying motivation for her self-restraint: "she that being ang'red, her revenge being nigh, bade her wrong stay, and her displeasure fly" (2.1.144-47, 2.1.152-53). Although at the end of the play Desemona fights concertedly for life, and as she is dying, cries that she is "falsely, falsely murder'd!" while robustly proclaiming her innocence, her ultimate concern is still to protect her husband from harm: she insists that she has committed suicide, and even asks Emilia to "commend" her to her "kind lord" (5.2.35-83, 5.2.117, 5.2.122, 5.2.124-25).
It is striking that Desdemona's concern for Othello remains stronger than her instinct for self-assertion even on her deathbed, when she knows that she is doomed never to experience the intimacy which she has hoped to foster through her devotion. In the end, like Bianca, she is prepared to "subdu[e]" all passions which might divide her from her beloved. Overall, we may infer from the examples of Bianca and Desdemona that truly passionate individuals tend not only to be unprejudiced themselves, but to forgive the prejudices of others, since they set no store by the insubstantial gratifications which may be derived from the conventional hierarchy, but concentrate on pursuing intimate attachments, which can only be nurtured by sympathetic care. This overriding aim encourages them to restrain their natural instinct for self-assertion -albeit at times with some difficulty, since it is one of the fundamental constituents of human nature.[18]
Emilia's initial attraction to Iago was probably primarily sensual. She insists that wives "see, and smell, and have their palates both for sweet and sour, as husbands have," which give them "affections, desires for sport, and frailty, as men have" (4.3.94-96, 4.3.100-01). Her sensual "palate..." and indeed her fascination with worldly prestige are exposed when she is reduced to an unusual silence by the kiss with which the "handsome" and gentlemanly Cassio greets her when she arrives in Cyprus, and particularly later, when she perhaps hints that she "would have walk'd barefoot to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip" (2.1.96-102, 4.3.36-49). This is not to deny that her relationship with her relentlessly abusive husband could have developed further if he had allowed it to, for she strives to promote some form of marital intimacy by serving him dutifully, just as Desdemona and Bianca serve their respective beloveds: she demands, "What will you give me now for that same handkerchief?" (3.3.300-18; see also 2.1.103-12, 4.2.148).
Unlike Bianca and Desdemona, however, Emilia is free to retaliate against her oppressor precisely because she does not love him: "why, we have galls; and though we have some grace, yet we have some revenge" (4.3.86-103). She is clearly thinking of Iago when she talks about husbands who express "peevish jealousies" and "throw...restraint" on their wives (4.3.89-90; see 1.3.386-88, 2.1.295-97, 2.1.307, 3.3.300, 4.2.145-47). In response to Desdemona's insistence that she would not have an affair "for all the world," Emilia argues that if you owned the world, an affair would be "a wrong in your own world, and you might quickly make it right" (4.3.64-82). Distracted as she is by physical desire and a concern for status, she seems at first to have much less reason than her mistress to provide the loyal, humble service which the pursuit of trusting attachments naturally entails. Desdemona's response to Emilia's tirade exposes the futility of these distractions when viewed in the light of the ultimate good: she prays, "God me such uses send, as not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend" (4.3.104-05).
As one of the less passionate and more worldly and sensual characters, or so it would seem at first, Emilia features as one of the purveyors of discrimination as well as its resentful victim. It is significant that it is she rather than her mistress who wishes that Desdemona had not "forsook so many noble matches...and her country" (4.2.125-26, 4.3.18-19). Emilia is also quick to condemn Bianca for being a "strumpet," an aspect of her character which links her not only to Cassio but to Iago himself, who exploits the general view that the courtesan is mere "trash" in order to blame her for her beloved's injury (4.1.105-25, 5.1.78, 5.1.85-86). Until the last scene of the play, Emilia also resembles Cassio in that she protests against prejudice only when she herself is experiencing it.
However, Emilia's proto-feminist tirade in the willow scene is made to seem as facile and self-regarding as her prejudice against Bianca in comparison to her radical defiance of the conventional hierarchy in the final scene.[19] Once she has realised that her beloved mistress has been murdered, she treats her master with an audacious and desperate disrespect, branding him "a devil," a "gull" and "dolt, as ignorant as dirt," "a fool" and "a murd'rous coxcomb," and his marriage "a filthy bargain," insisting, "thou hast not half that pow'r to do me harm as I have to be hurt," even when she sees him brandishing his sword (5.2.130-35, 5.2.162-65, 5.2.157, 5.2.233-34). Her use of the familiar form of the second person pronoun here signals that she has now abandoned any pretence of deference.
Emilia also feels absolutely "bound to speak" in order to expose her husband's crimes, despite his frequent efforts to reassert male authority, declaring that "'tis proper I obey him; but not now": "let heaven and men and devils, let them all, all, all, cry shame against me, yet I'll speak" (5.2.183-96, 5.2.219-23, 5.2.231-34). The fierce imperatives of love now override not only her concern for decorum and reputation, but her attachment to life itself. She is eventually killed for speaking out, having bravely refused to be silenced even after Iago has made his murderous intentions plain -but perhaps she could never have forgiven herself anyway for her initial decision to give him the handkerchief, despite her misgivings and concern for her mistress's reaction to the loss: "O Villainy! I thought so then--I'll kill myself with grief" (5.2.218-36, 5.2.191-92; see 3.3.316-18).[20]
Emilia's behaviour at the end of the play shows the power of intimate attachments to override self-love, even in many who are initially disposed to prioritise worldly and sensual passions. Such passions turn out to be completely irrelevant to Emilia's deepest needs, which, as she now realises, were fulfilled through her intimacy with Desdemona. The contrast between her advocacy of proud self-assertion and female equality in the willow scene and her bold and thoroughly selfless indignation at the end of the play suggests that deep attachment can inspire a critique of the established hierarchy that is much more radical than conventional social protest, which may easily remain fundamentally self-regarding despite presenting itself as opposing injustice, since it is often as concerned with power and status as the chauvinism which it excoriates. Emilia's final passion allows her to cut loose entirely from the restrictions of her gender and class, just as Desdemona's love impels her to defy these constraints in order to marry Othello.[21] As the only character in the play who shifts her priorities in a major way, the portrayal of Emilia highlights particularly clearly the key point that the true antidote to prejudice is not proud self-assertion, but deep attachment.
At the same time, however, it should not be forgotten that deep attachment leads both Bianca and Desdemona to comply with their oppressors. Although Emilia's forceful condemnation of Othello and Iago certainly promotes justice, as perhaps does Desdemona's kindness, which indirectly inspires her tirade, the indifference of passionate devotion to conventional judgements by no means provides a broad guarantee that it will facilitate a more equal society. The ideal situation is perhaps described in Romeo and Juliet, where both lovers are anxious to "subdue[e]" their hearts to the "quality" of their beloved, but in the absence of such a perfect harmony, the humility which deep attachment entails inevitably creates severe imbalances at times.
The Self-Regarding Response to Prejudice
Clearly, it takes a particular sort of character to respond to discrimination, however pervasive, in a remorselessly spiteful manner. In Iago's fundamentally unerotic view, "deserving" women are fools who are impelled by conventional illusion to conform to restrictive codes of duty, and thus fit only "to suckle fools and chronicle small beer," whereas those who have true "wit" make calculated "use" of their beauty, presumably to advance themselves and slake their sexual appetite (2.1.129-60). Iago's mockery of women who value an ordinary trusting marriage above more ostentatious or stimulating gratifications suggests that he is unable to appreciate the yearning for deep intimacy which leads passionate lovers to restrain their vanity, anger, ambition and sexual desire (2.1.148-57.[22] He assumes that love is nothing more than a "carnal sting..." (1.3.330-32). Emilia is presumably speaking from her own marital experience when she remarks that:
T'is not a year or two shows us a man:
They are all but stomachs, and we all but food;
They eat us hungerly, and when they are full
They belch us. (3.4.103-06)
Having sated himself in this way, as one might assume, Iago now seems to feel nothing but impatient scorn for his wife (2.1.103-07, 3.3.300-320). It is telling that he cannot believe that Desdemona could truly love someone like Othello, who is so "defective" in "manners, and beauties": "her eye must be fed" (2.1.222-35).
So stunted is Iago's urge to form enduring attachments that he has formed no conception of the self-denial and sympathetic care which they naturally entail. Although he describes his previous self as "doting" and wearing his "heart upon [his] sleeve for daws to peck at," and has doubtless in the past felt the attraction of Othello's "free and open nature," which he still describes as "constant, loving, noble," we may infer from his cool decision that he is no longer "in any just term...affin'd to love the Moor" that he has always taken a transactional approach to his relationships (1.1.46, 1.1.64-65, 1.3.399, 2.1.289, 1.1.39-40). His apparently disingenuous declaration to Othello that he will "love no friend, sith love breeds such offense," is in fact absolutely sincere (3.3.380).
We may assume that Iago has worked hard to establish a reputation for "honesty" purely in order to gain respect (1.3.284, 1.3.294, 2.3.177, 2.3.247, 3.3.5, 3.3.118, 3.3.242, 3.3.258-60, 5.2.148-49, 5.2.154).[23] He has indeed seen his "good name" as "the immediate jewel" of the soul (3.3.155-61). However, one consequence of this transactional approach is that injustice of the sort that class discrimination inevitably generates quickly convinces him that "honesty's a fool and loses that it works for," since "preferment goes by letter and affection, and not by old gradation, where each second stood heir to th' first" (3.3.382-83, 1.1.36-38). "Reputation is an idle and most false imposition," he now avers, "oft got without merit, and lost without deserving," with the result that those who are granted honour "very oft...have it not" (2.3.268-70, 4.1.16-17). Othello's unjust preferment of Cassio leads Iago to despise his former self for having been a "duteous and knee-crooking knave," whose folly in "doting on his own obsequious bondage" has allowed him to be exploited by his master "for nought but provender," as a hard-working "ass" might be, before being casually "cashier'd" when too old to be of any more use (1.1.44-49).
Iago's response to Brabantio's accusation that he is "a villain," a term which of course denigrates his social status along with his morality, points to his swelling rage at the privileged class from which he is excluded: he replies simply, "You are a senator," thus slyly implying that Brabantio's lofty status simply enables him to be a much more egregious "villain" (1.1.118). As we have seen, he also expresses his resentment in his song about King Stephen's exploitation of his tailor (2.3.89-96; see above). Every subtle slight which he receives from gentlemen like Cassio is another blow to his self-love.
Iago's sense of inferiority, now thoroughly in the ascendant as a result of Othello's snub, manifests itself as a suspicion that Cassio has usurped his "night-cap" and that "the lusty Moor hath leap'd into my seat; the thought whereof doth (like a poisonous mineral) gnaw my inwards" (2.1.295-97, 2.1.307; see also 4.2.145-47). His ongoing suspicions provide him with a grievance that is much more concrete than the ambient chauvinism to which he is continually subjected (2.1.112, 3.3.300, 4.2.145-47). The fancifulness of his jealousy is, however, suggested by the way in which he baulks at drawing a direct causal link between his suspicions and his hostility towards Othello-- "I hate the Moor, and it is thought abroad that 'twixt my sheets h'as done my office" (1.3.386-88; my italics)--while admitting, "I know not if't be true, but...for mere suspicion in that kind will do as if for surety" (1.3.388-390). As with his own professed love for Desdemona, which he promptly confesses is not a matter of "absolute lust," we may infer that Iago nurtures his suspicions, along with his theory that Cassio and Desdemona love each other-- "I do well believ't...'tis apt and of great credit"--purely in order to "diet [his] revenge" (2.1.286-87, 2.1.291-94, 4.2.145-47).[24] In reality, these suspicions are nothing more than expressions of his mounting insecurity: his jealousy of Cassio is inseparable from his feeling that the latter "hath a daily beauty in his life that makes me ugly" (5.1.19-20).
Although Iago is now clearly bent on avenging himself upon Othello, whom he privately admits to "hat[ing]," he presents himself to Roderigo as coolly ambitious: from now on, he maintains, he will emulate those who merely offer "shows of service," while "keep[ing] yet their hearts attending on themselves" (1.3.386, 1.1.49-55). Iago would rather see himself as proudly choosing to exert his "will..." and "reason," just as he urges Roderigo to do, in order to defy the repressive codes of duty and honour, which he now feels are simply designed to keep the lower classes in their place, than acknowledge the full extent of his humiliation (1.3.319-29, 1.1.44-49). In reality, however, the extreme bitterness of his cynicism provides an indirect measure of the pain of his humiliation, while the disingenuousness of his account of his own motives is itself a reflection of the pride which is his core motive. It is telling that his central concern with Emilia's putative infidelity is not the prospect of losing a trusting and intimate marital relationship, for he is incapable of forming one, but a fear of public humiliation; what is "thought abroad" (1.3.387-88). In this, as in many other respects, he resembles Othello himself, as will be argued below.
The desperate audacity of Iago's revenge provides a measure of the driving force of his thwarted self-love: it should not be forgotten that he could easily have been killed by Othello, if the serendipitous acquisition of Desdemona's handkerchief had not allowed him to substantiate his accusations, or if, as he himself fears, Othello had confronted Cassio directly (3.3.359-366, 5.1.20-21). Iago's primary aim is now to punish Othello by "practicing upon his peace and quiet even to madness" in a manner that is designed to requite his master in kind for his humiliating snub by reminding him forcefully of his own marginal status (2.1.310-11). Along the way he certainly hopes to "get [the] place" and the "thank[s]...love...and reward" which he considers that he deserves, but these are clearly subordinate considerations (1.3.393).
Othello resembles Iago in his obsessive concern with his own marginal status. His relationships are continually warped and falsified by his desperate desire to ingratiate himself with the ruling elite. After promoting the gentlemanly Cassio over the plebian Iago--despite calling the latter a "friend," and considering that he is "full of love and honesty...working from the heart" (3.3.142-44, 3.3.118-24)--he then sacks him, primarily, it seems, because of the great "fame" and "affinity" of the man whom he has injured in a drunken brawl (1.1.16-23, 3.1.44-47). The apparently trivial incident in which Othello orders the musicians which Cassio has appointed "to make no more noise" provides a hint that his social interactions are forced and disharmonious, precisely because of his unremitting pursuit of social acceptance: just as he is repelled by the music which Cassio has organised, not for aesthetic reasons, but purely because it is delivered in the Neapolitan nasal style rather than conforming to Venetian conceptions of elegance, so he undervalues Iago's sterling qualities purely, it seems, because he lacks Cassio's "breeding" and "show[s] of courtesy" (3.1.3-20, 2.1.98-99). The clown's satirical treatment of Cassio in the wake of this incident perhaps implies that Othello lacks truly "honest friend[s]" and retains many who only "seem" to serve him (3.1.21-29). The suggestion here is that Iago is only the most egregiously duplicitous of the Moor's friends. Even when he has real friends, he is unable to recognise them, as his treatment of Desdemona reveals.
Othello's successful courtship of Desdemona represents the culmination of his efforts to inveigle himself into Venetian society. He admires her for the qualities which reflect her aristocratic upbringing; because she "loves company, is free of speech, sings, plays, and dances well" in ways which he knows to be beyond his own scope, and, above all, because she is "of so gentle a condition" (3.3.183-89, 4.1.187-93). He woos Desdemona rather in the same way as he courts the favour of the Venetian elite as a whole, relying on his reputation for valour to overcome the racial prejudice which he is so used to encountering. Having, in a typically studied manner, "draw[n] from her a prayer of earnest heart" that he should tell her his life history, he is then able, in a typically deliberate manner, to "beguile her of her tears" with tales of his courage and the "distressful stroke[s] that [his] youth suffer'd" (1.3.152-58). Just as Othello assumes that Desdemona loves him purely for the valour which he is at such pains to display, he loves her primarily for responding to his "passing strange[ness]" with "pity," rather than simply approaching him as an exotic curiosity, as Brabantio seems to have done (1.3.158-68, 1.3.128-30). Her heartfelt sympathy reassures him that he has at last been fully accepted by at least one member of the elite class.
Distracted as he is by his own relentless pursuit of status, Othello is unable to reciprocate his wife's passionate attachment, or the sympathetic care which it entails.[25] Whereas Desdemona is desperately worried for her husband's safety when she learns that Othello's and Cassio's ships have been parted by the storm which they encounter on their way to Cyprus, Othello himself speaks only of his "wonder" at seeing her and his immediate "joy," without actually showing any concern for her ordeal at all (2.1.87-91, 2.1.122-23, 2.1.183-93, 2.1.195-98). It is left to the highly relieved Desdemona, who alone uses the plural pronoun in this interchange, to focus, not on the delight of the moment, but on the ongoing, ever-deepening intimacy which she hopes their union will promote: "The heavens forbid but that our loves and comfort should increase even as our days do grow!" (2.1.193-95). The contrast between her passionate focus on the enduring personal attachment for which she yearns and Othello's prioritisation of public status is underlined by their respective greetings: "O my fair warrior!" "My dear Othello!" (2.1.182).
As with Cassio, the shallowness of Othello's passion is reflected in his prioritisation of physical attraction: it is perhaps significant that in the conversation cited above he addresses Desdemona as "fair" rather than "dear." In a typically noble gesture, he assures the Duke that he does want her to accompany him to the wars merely "to please the palate of [his] appetite...but to be free and bounteous to her mind," adding that he will not allow sexual "disports" to "corrupt and taint [his] business" (1.3.261-65). In actual fact, however, he leaves the volatile and inexperienced Cassio to superintend the revels which he calls to celebrate the destruction of the Turkish fleet, precisely in order to enjoy what he now frankly refers to as "the fruits" of his marriage: "that profit's yet to come 'tween me and you" (2.2.1-10, 2.3.1-11). Othello's conception of romantic passion as fundamentally sensual is one of the elements in the situation which make him vulnerable to Iago's insinuations: he suspects that he cannot stimulate his wife's "appetite..." because of his colour, his manners and his age (3.3.263-70).[26] It is but a short step from Othello's mystification as to why Desdemona should wish to marry a man who apparently lacks all the attributes which might qualify him for such a match to his suspicion that she has been in the grip of some transient sexual fantasy.
The relative shallowness of Othello's priorities is exhibited when, in reply to his accusation that Desdemona's hand is "hot, and moist," she simply reminds him, "'twas that hand that gave away my heart" (3.4.36-45). The contrast between the two characters is underlined by the fact that the handkerchief upon which Othello's suspicions are focused was only lost in the first place because Desdemona was so worried about his health: she notices immediately that he is feeling "faint...," just as Bianca is the first to realise that Cassio "faints" (3.3.282-89; compare 5.1.84). [27] In sum, in Leavis's words, Othello's 'love' is "a matter of self-centred and self-regarding satisfactions -- pride, sensual possessiveness, appetite, love of loving..."[28]
Iago can understand Othello's insecurities so accurately because he too focuses obsessively on his marginal status and is prone to jealousy. His "scattering and unsure observance" first "fright[s]" his master deeply, "as if there were some monster in [his] thought too hideous to be shown," then causes him "misery," and finally, after only one hundred and twenty lines, leads him to announce, "she's gone. I am abus'd, and my relief must be to loathe her. O curse of marriage!" (3.3.151, 3.3.120, 3.3.107-08, 3.3.171, 3.3.267-68). Othello himself has already had "the worst of thoughts," even as he begs Iago to give them "the worst of words," for, despite his protestations, his focus on what he considers to be his own "weak merits" continually generates "fear" and "doubt": "Haply, for I am black, and have not those soft parts of conversation that chamberers have" (3.3.132-33, 3.3.187-88, 3.3.263-65). Iago's claim that a woman who is not attracted to suitors "of her own clime, complexion, and degree, whereto we see in all things nature tends," is bound to have "a will most rank, foul disproportions, thoughts unnatural," can only be framed in such audaciously "bold" terms because he knows that Othello already worries that he is unworthy of Desdemona precisely in respect of his race, colour and class, and fears that she will soon "fall to match [him] with her country forms, and happily repent" (3.3.228-38).
Once Othello's inner demons have been unleashed, all Desdemona's stalwart efforts to disguise her love can be used as evidence of her fickleness and mendacity (3.3.206-11). One of Iago's most successful gambits is to claim that "in Venice they do let God see the pranks they dare not show their husbands; their best conscience is not leave't undone, but keep't unknown" (3.3.202-04). Othello's hesitant reply, "Dost thou say so?" shows that, in a manner perhaps typical of any ambitious parvenu, he is as unsure of the rules, or "country disposition," of the club to which he is striving to gain access as he is suspicious of any member who would defy its norms so egregiously as to invite him to join (3.3.205, 3.3.201). Thus, ironically, the very means by which he looked to secure his status ultimately becomes the wedge which exposes and aggravates his underlying insecurity. This insecurity is in part rational, since there is no doubt that he encounters genuine racial prejudice, but it is his self-love which leads him to focus so relentlessly on his ambition to be accepted by the Venetian elite and thus on the factors which thwart that ambition.
The soliloquy which Othello delivers after Iago has first broached the matter of Desdemona's infidelity focuses on the blow which her alleged infidelity has dealt to his pride rather than on the prospect of losing the "loves and comforts" of an enduring intimacy: he would "rather be a toad and live upon the vapor of a dungeon than keep a corner in the thing I love for others' uses" (3.3.270-73, see 2.1.194). He sees cuckolding as "the plague of great ones" in particular, who are "prerogativ'd...less than the base," presumably because of the gossip which their wives' infidelities are bound to provoke (3.3.273-77). Iago, who, as we have seen, expresses his insecurity in a similar way by imagining that his own wife is unfaithful, knows that it is humiliation rather than a simple fear of losing Desdemona's love that is guaranteed to drive Othello "mad," which is why he seeks to convince his master that Cassio regularly boasts about his conquest of Desdemona, with "fleers...gibes, and notable scorns" (4.1.82-143, 4.1.170-71). Like Iago, Othello is mortified rather than simply grieved by his wife's infidelity: "Have you scor'd me?" he demands of Cassio, as he watches him apparently boasting about his seduction of Desdemona (4.1.126).
Othello, who always tries to project an image of noble selflessness, immediately tries to retract his frank admission that what moves him most is the prospect of becoming a "fixed figure for the time of scorn to point his slow unmoving finger at," suggesting that he could "bear that too, well, very well" (4.2.47-56). However, his assertion that his grief and anger stem from his "heart," since Desdemona gives him a place "where either [he] must live or bear no life; the fountain from the which [his] current runs or else dries up," must be interpreted in the light of the horror which he subsequently expresses at the idea that his wife should become "a cestern for foul toads to knot and gender in" (4.2.57-62). Again, we may infer from the fact that what he fears most is the humiliation of cuckoldry, rather than the loss of a trusting intimacy, that what has previously given him "life" was not the desire to fuse his identity with Desdemona in a perfectly intimate union, but the proud sense of social acceptance which his marriage provided. The contrast with Bianca as she "labor[s]" to save the man whom she has herself just accused of infidelity could not be starker (5.1.100-01).
Othello's renunciation of "the plumed troops and the big wars that makes ambition virtue," along with the "pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war," and subsequent declaration that his "occupation's gone," as soon as he becomes convinced that he has lost Desdemona, confirm that his marriage is inseparable in his mind from his pursuit of social prestige through military service (3.3.349-57). It is perhaps significant that he strikes Desdemona soon after receiving the letters which recall him and make Cassio of all people governor of Cyprus in his place, thus confirming his suspicion that he is valued only for his military prowess (4.1.226-40). Lodovico's and Desdemona's assumption that "the letters work upon his blood" may well be partially correct (4.1.275; see also 4.2.44-46). Such slights are of course genuine, but they are supercharged in Othello's mind by his restless ambition. Othello probably sees Desdemona's unfortunate remark that she is "glad" that Cassio has been appointed governor simply as the culminating blow in a series of humiliations, thus showing again that he draws no sharp distinction between his marriage and his professional efforts to advance his status in the eyes of the Venetian elite (4.1.238).
Othello hesitates to murder Desdemona, not because his deep need for his beloved impels him to care about her wellbeing above all other things, as is the case with Bianca and Desdemona herself, but primarily because of "her body and beauty"--she is "a fine woman! A fair woman! A sweet woman!"--and because she possesses all the elegant accomplishments which befit one of "so gentle a condition": "She might lie by an emperor's side and command him tasks" (4.1.204-06, 4.1.178-79, 4.1.193, 4.1.184-85). Even as he is about to kill her, he determines that he will not "scar that whiter skin of hers than snow, and smooth as monumental alabaster" (5.2.3-5). Presumably, he also values her extreme whiteness because it is socially prestigious compared to his own colour. Leavis comments percipiently that the "tenderness here quite clearly is that characteristic voluptuousness of Othello's, which since it is unassociated with any real interest in Desdemona as a person, slips so readily into possessive jealousy."[29] In the absence of such an interest, Othello shows "a characteristic...preoccupation with his emotions rather than with Desdemona in her own right": "I must weep, but they are cruel tears: this sorrow's heavenly; it strikes where it doth love" (5.2.20-22).[30] Although he exclaims repeatedly, "the pity of it, Iago!" as he is determining to commit the murder, his choice of a generalised, neuter pronoun barely disguises the fact that he is focusing primarily on his own grief rather than on Desdemona's parlous situation (4.1.195-96).
At first, Othello's pride dictates that he should present his furious revenge as an act of justice-- "It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul"--and style himself as an instrument of divine retribution (5.2.1, 5.2.21-22). He is anxious for Desdemona to confess in private, apparently so that he should not "kill [her] unprepared spirit" (5.2.26-32). However, she disrupts his veneer of calm concern by ignoring what he considers to be a measured offer, and seemingly committing "perjury" at the 'trial' which he then decides to stage: "thou dost stone my heart, and mak'st me call what I intend to do a murther, which I thought a sacrifice" (5.2.33-65). This abrupt volte face suggests that his initial approach was simply designed to reconcile his fury with his sense of his own nobility. It is significant that what Desdemona sees is not "sorrowful love or noble self-bracing to a sacrifice," but rolling eyes, "gnaw[ed]" lips and violent trembling (5.2.37-44).[31] Any real concern which he might feel for Desdemona's "soul" vanishes when she expresses pity for the man who he imagines has cuckolded him, at which point he twice brands her a "strumpet," and promptly smothers her without even now allowing her to "say one prayer" (5.2.76-84). Here, as in many other areas, Othello resembles Iago, who, as we have seen, proudly presents himself to Roderigo as calmly Machiavellian, when he is really seething with fury and humiliation (1.1.49-55).
If Desdemona's "jesses" were indeed Othello's "heart-strings," he would not be able simply to "whistle her off, and let her down the wind to prey at fortune," or of course ultimately determine to kill her (3.3.260-63). If he were deeply in love, like Bianca and indeed Desdemona herself, he would simply have to "be circumstanc'd" and hope to retain at least some vestiges of the attachment (3.4.201).[32] Whereas Bianca seems ultimately to resign herself to sharing Cassio, Othello only toys momentarily with the idea that he might have "been happy, if the general camp, pioners and all, had tasted her sweet body, so I had nothing known" (3.3.345-47). His subsequent insistence that his "bloody thoughts" will "nev'r ebb to humble love, till that a capable and wide revenge swallow them up" points indirectly to Shakespeare's key theme, since it could remind us that he lacks the radical, or one might even say, abject humility of a true lover (3.3.453-60). It is Othello's self-regard which impels him to focus so relentlessly, firstly on his ambition to be accepted by the Venetian elite, and then on his revenge, as soon as the instrument by which he hoped to further this ambition comes, as it seems, to embody the very prejudice which has previously thwarted this hope.
When Othello is left to himself at the end of the play, his first impulse is to express his own sense of shame-- "I am not valiant neither, but every puny whipster gets my sword"--while his second is to boast that he could easily escape his guard if he so chose (5.2.243-44, 5.2.261-64). Only then does he consider Desdemona, but only to note the physical detail that she is "pale as [her] smock" (5.2.273). He is worried for a moment that her murder "will hurl [his] soul from heaven," but his invitation to devils to "whip" him is not a sign of heart-felt guilt, but simply of regret that he has forfeited such a "heavenly sight" (5.2.273-280). Such guilt would of course involve focusing on the fact that he has caused Desdemona, whom he simply labels an "ill-starr'd wench," great pain and anguish (5.2.272). There is no hint of the overriding sympathetic concern which leads Desdemona herself to attempt to protect him from punishment for her murder.
Characteristically, Othello's final speech does not concern itself with any personal loss or guilt which he might feel, but with his public reputation, as he hopes that it will subsequently be represented in his auditors' "letters" (5.2.340-43, 5.2.351). Having recalled that he has "done the state some service," which, he implies, should be set against his crime, he acknowledges that he has just behaved like the "base Indian" whom many Venetians might have suspected him to be, but at the same time attempts to disarm his listeners, who include several Venetian grandees, by agreeing that he has thrown "a pearl away richer than all his tribe" (5.2.339, 5.2.346-48). In this way, he seeks to show that he has now transcended his own uncivilised origins, which have, according to his ingratiating implication, hitherto prevented him from appreciating the true worth of Desdemona, and, by implication, of the Venetian state itself. He effectively admits that he has behaved like "a malignant and a turban'd Turk [who] beat a Venetian and traduc'd the state," but at the same time tries to present his suicide itself as the final expression of his noble desire to defend his adopted country against barbaric threats of this sort (5.2.352-56). Again, his self-regard leaves no room to consider Desdemona herself, who figures in the speech purely as a precious object which he has foolishly discarded, but only his self-image and reputation: he portrays himself, against all the evidence, as one who "lov'd not wisely but too well," and who is "not easily jealious" (5.2.342-46).[33] In brief, Othello's final speech is simply the culminating expression of his overriding ambition to be accepted by the Venetian elite.
The above argument suggests that both Iago's description of Othello at the start of the play as "loving his own pride and purposes" and Emilia's final dismissal of him as a "coxcomb" may be nearer the mark than either initially appears to be (1.1.12, 5.2.233). Iago identifies the artificiality of Othello's grand rhetoric with typical acuity when he criticises him for purveying disingenuous "bumbast, horribly stuff'd with epithites of war" (1.1.13-14). As Leavis notes, critics who take Othello's grand manner seriously are in danger of mistaking his constant efforts to present an "ideal conception of himself" for reality.[34] Leavis comments insightfully that "noble egotism," or "a habit of self-approving self-dramatization is an essential element in Othello's make-up, and remains so at the very end," adding that "to express Othello's sense of himself and to make us share it is the essential function of the 'Othello music'."[35] Othello's ability to convince himself and others of the nobility of his "brutal egoism" through his grand rhetoric is typified by his lofty comparison of his vindictiveness "to the Pontic sea, whose icy current and compulsive course nev'r feels retiring ebb" (3.3.453-60).[36]
This rhetoric in fact conceals a roiling "chaos" of insecurity, which always threatens to "come again" and thus return him to his underlying state of "ugliness, hellishness, idiocy, negation," as it does when he exclaims "Pish! Noses, ears, and lips. Is't possible? Confess? Handkerchief? O devil!" before falling into a trance, or when he declares that he will chop Desdemona "into messes" and throw Cassio's corpse to the dogs for cuckolding him (3.3.92, 4.1.35-43, 4.1.200, 4.1.142-43).[37] As with Iago himself, whose language is of course equally crude, a restless, base self-love lurks just below the honourable persona which he has worked so hard to maintain. Were it not for the fate of the three women in the play, who are genuinely capable of the sort of self-denial to which Othello lays claim, one might conclude that the play is in reality a satire carefully disguised as a tragedy.
Conclusion
As always, Shakespeare takes his bearings in Othello by what he considers to be the ultimate good of a perfectly intimate union, which, as Desdemona understands, provides a firm standard whereby lovers can gauge the insubstantiality of the conventional hierarchy, and hence the futility of the urge to confirm one's superiority by discriminating on the basis of that hierarchy. Truly erotic souls are bound to pursue their desire for such a union, experiencing their passion simply as an ineluctable, intuited given. Bianca and Desdemona embody the power of this desire to override any chauvinistic impulse of their own, but at the same time, as feminist critics have noted, any resentment which they might feel with regard to their own oppression.[38] Thus, Shakespeare attributes a transcendent value to deep attachments, which cuts across the dichotomy between radicalism and conservatism that underlies Marxist, feminist and post-colonial analyses of the play.
On the one hand, passionate devotion quite "subdu[es]" the heart, spontaneously moderating any form of self-assertion in a process which may nevertheless involve arduous self-control (1.3.150-51). In the case of women this moderation often conforms outwardly to patriarchal imperatives, even though it is ultimately driven by an entirely natural desire for the supreme good. Shakespeare would probably endorse Desdemona's comment on Emilia's proto-feminist tirade in the willow scene: "God me such uses send, not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend" (4.3.104-05). Desdemona implicitly dismisses as completely insubstantial the power and physical pleasure which Emilia might gain from asserting herself in the way that she is planning. She perhaps views Emilia's stance of moral indignation as, in part at least, a pretext for emancipating her desire for such futile gratifications. Nevertheless, the undoubted disadvantage of Desdemona's position is that the humility of true lovers can easily create imbalances in cases where the beloved does not fully reciprocate the attachment, even though, as Emilia's anger on Desdemona's behalf indicates, the sympathetic care of an affectionate nature naturally invites such a reciprocation.
On the other hand, however, as is suggested both by the presentation of Desdemona at the start of the play and of Emilia at the end, passionate devotion also has the power to stimulate a sturdy resistance to the conventional hierarchy. Emilia ultimately steps out of the role to which she has been assigned by her class and gender to criticise the prevailing hierarchy in an intransigently courageous manner, which exposes by contrast the facile and self-regarding nature of her assertion of female equality in the willow scene. Moreover, even Desdemona's final effort to exonerate Othello from blame for her murder, which seems to provide the starkest possible illustration of the alchemical process whereby an intense desire to unite with a beloved naturally transmutes itself into absolutely self-denying care, while from the feminist point of view no doubt displaying an abject lack of self-assertion, nevertheless reflects her ongoing, sturdy defiance of her father's will. For Desdemona, there is still nothing worse than to be divided from her vengeful beloved. Far from portraying her as punished for defying a patriarchal system, as some feminist critics maintain, the play implicitly celebrates the way in which her devotion perseveres humbly yet robustly, even in the face of the most egregious prejudice and most extreme persecution, thus demonstrating the enduring capacity of the human heart to pursue the ultimate good. [39]
In Othello Shakespeare outlines what from one point of view is as radical a social critique as any which one might find in his feminist or post-colonial critics, since throughout the play systemic class, race and gender discrimination is shown to impede careers and radically stunt relationships. The three women are all oppressed by male chauvinism in different ways, while Othello, Iago and Bianca are all discriminated against on grounds of class and or race. Moreover, the similarities between Iago and Othello suggest that Shakespeare is as far from presenting the Moor as a barbaric monster in the way that these critics sometimes claim as he is from portraying his ancient as intellectually limited because of his relatively low position in the social hierarchy.[40] Othello is no different from Iago in the way that he uses those whom he purports to love to advance his prestige and punishes them severely when he feels that they have added to, rather than alleviated, his underlying insecurity.[41]
However, as is implied by the portrayal of Cassio in particular, social discrimination is presented as absolutely endemic and irremediable, since self-love naturally impels many to seek to advance or confirm their own status by demeaning their social inferiors. Another potentially conservative implication is that victims of prejudice who focus primarily on their resentments are themselves also bound to be driven by self-regard, since by so doing they implicitly assign as much value as their oppressors do to their status within the conventional hierarchy. The fundamentally unerotic nature of Iago and Othello is revealed by their prioritisation of physical desire over any desire they might have for an enduring intimacy. Since the same may be said of Cassio, we may infer that the whole ongoing cycle of discrimination and resentment is the natural preserve of those who are unable to appreciate the ultimate good because their deeper needs have been overlaid by self-regard and sensuality. Thus, Shakespeare views the issue of discrimination, as he does all others I would argue, through the prism of the age-old conflict between these baser drives and the yearning for "loves and comforts" which "increase even as our days do grow" (2.1.194-95).
All references to Measure for Measure are from The Riverside Shakespeare, ed. G. Blakemore Evans et al. (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1997). ↩︎
Alvin Kernan, "Barbarism and the City," in "Othello": Critical Essays, ed. Susan Snyder (London: Routledge, 1988): 201. ↩︎
See William Empson, "Honest in Othello," in Shakespeare: "Othello" Casebook Series, ed. John Wain (Basingstoke: Palgrave, 1994): 101. In Nunn's production Cassio was an "upper class snob," as well as racist and sexist: Philip Kolin, "Blackness Made Visible," in "Othello": New Critical Essays, ed. Philip C. Kolin (London: Routledge, 2002): 73. ↩︎
Empson: 117. ↩︎
See Empson: 116-17. ↩︎
John Wain, Introduction to Shakespeare: "Othello": 14. ↩︎
Evelyn Gajowski, "The Female Perspective in Othello," in "Othello": New Perspectives, ed. Virginia Mason Vaughan and Kent Cartwright (London: Associated University Presses, 1991): 107. ↩︎
Gajowski: 105. ↩︎
David Bevington, "Othello: Portrait of a Marriage," in "Othello": New Critical Essays: 225. ↩︎
The best account of Desdemona's passionate unconventionality is by Ellen Terry, "Desdemona," in "Othello": Critical Essays: 62. ↩︎
For Barbary's possible blackness, see Karen Newman, "Femininity and the Monstrous in Othello," in Shakespeare: "Othello": 210. ↩︎
See Anthony Brennan, "Iago, the Strategist of Separation," in Shakespeare: "Othello": 205. ↩︎
Terry: 62. ↩︎
I agree with G. Wilson Knight's view that "she becomes a symbol of man's ideal, the supreme value of love": "The Othello Music," in Shakespeare: "Othello": 84. ↩︎
For Desdemona's combination of spirited self-defence and unchanging devotion, see Gajowski: 101. ↩︎
John Middleton Murray, "Desdemona's Handkerchief," in "Othello": Critical Essays: 95. ↩︎
Terry: 64. See also Helen Gardner, "The Noble Moor," in "Othello": Critical Essays: 169. ↩︎
For the contrast between Desdemona's self-denial and Othello's self-love, see Bevington: 225-28. ↩︎
Robert B. Heilman argues convincingly that Emilia moves from resembling her husband in relying on a reductive "wit" to "a transrational achievement in spirit": "Wit and Witchcraft: Thematic Form in Othello," in "Othello": Critical Essays: 196. See also Gajowski: 103: Desdemona's love "surpasses understanding in its ability and willingness to subsume individual needs to the demands of a bond with another" --unless, I would add, that understanding encompasses the intuition that supreme fulfilment is to be found through such a self-denial. ↩︎
For Emilia's passionate courage, see Terry: 65. ↩︎
For Emilia's indifference to conventional shame, see Terry: 67. ↩︎
For Iago's "passionless character," see Samuel Taylor Coleridge, "Notes and Lectures upon Shakespeare," in "Othello": Critical Essays: 9. ↩︎
Empson notes that the word often has patronising connotations when it is applied to Iago, and indeed to many other characters in Shakespeare's work: 97-98. ↩︎
Neville Coghill, "Shakespeare's Professional Skills," in Shakespeare: "Othello": 145. ↩︎
Albert Gerard, "'Egregiously an Ass': the Dark Side of the Moor. A view of Othello's Mind," in Aspects of "Othello": 18. ↩︎
For the unexpected "intensity and directness" of Othello's references to the sexual act, see John Bayley, "Tragedy and Consciousness: Othello," in Shakespeare: "Othello": 158. ↩︎
Murray: 94. ↩︎
F. R. Leavis, "Diabolic Intellect and the Noble Hero," in Shakespeare: "Othello": 130. See also Bevington: 224. ↩︎
Leavis: 134. ↩︎
Leavis: 134-35. ↩︎
Leavis: 135. ↩︎
Heilman: 197. ↩︎
For the self-regarding character of Othello's final speech, see T. S. Eliot, 'Shakespeare and the Stoicism of Seneca," in Shakespeare: "Othello": 70. See also Heilman: 197, and Gajowski: 111. For the objectifying of Desdemona, see Edward A. Snow, "Sexual Anxiety and the Male Order of Things in Othello," in "Othello": Critical Essays: 216. ↩︎
Leavis: 125. ↩︎
Leavis: 126-27. ↩︎
Leavis: 131. ↩︎
The most famous account both of Othello's 'music' and of its collapse into incoherence is by Knight: 72-81, 92. For Othello's grand style, see also Mikhail M. Morozov, "The Individualization of Shakespeare's Characters through Imagery," in Aspects of "Othello," ed. Kenneth Muir and Philip Edwards (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1977): 22-23. For the implications of the word "again," see Gerard: 15. ↩︎
For a typical feminist reading, see Sarah Munson Deats, "Truly, a Most Obedient Lady," in "Othello": New Critical Essays: 246-47. ↩︎
Newman: 210-12. ↩︎
Newman: 212-13. ↩︎
Heilman: 197. ↩︎