SOURCE: Garner, S. N. “Shakespeare's Desdemona.” Shakespeare Studies 9 (1976): 233-52.

[In the following essay, Garner stresses the importance and complexity of Desdemona's role in Othello, and asserts that Shakespeare endowed her with a full range of human emotions.]

I

As Desdemona prepares to go to bed with Othello in Act IV, scene iii of Shakespeare's Othello, the following conversation occurs between her and Emilia:

EMILIA.
Shall I go fetch your nightgown?
DESDEMONA.
No, unpin me here.
This Lodovico is a proper man.
EMILIA.
A very handsome man.
DESDEMONA.
He speaks well.
EMILIA.
I know a lady in Venice would have walked barefoot to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip.

(ll. 36-42)¹

Surely this is startling dialogue coming as it does between the brothel scene and the moment when Desdemona will go to her wedding with death. An actress or director would certainly have to think a great deal about how these lines are to be spoken and what they are to reveal of Desdemona's character. But a reader or critic is not so hard pressed, and he may, if it suits him, simply skip over them. This is precisely what most critics do.

Robert Heilman is representative. In his lengthy book on the play, Magic in the Web,² he does not discuss the passage. One reason for this omission, of course, is that he, like most critics, is mainly interested in Othello and Iago. Nevertheless, since he uses the New Critics' method of close reading—underscoring images, habits of diction, and grammatical structure—it is peculiar that when he treats Desdemona's character, dealing in two instances with Act IV, scene iii specifically (pp. 189-90, 208-10), he fails to notice these lines. A partial explanation for this failure is that he sustains his interpretation of Othello and Iago and the theme of the play by insisting on Desdemona's relative simplicity and diverges from other critics who make her “overintricate” (p. 209). More significantly, however, the passage is difficult to square with his contention that in the last act Desdemona “becomes … the saint” (p. 215), a representation of “the world of spirit” (p. 218).

Other critics whose method, if nothing else, will scarcely allow them to ignore the passage cancel it out as best they can. G. R. Elliott, for example, in his line-by-line commentary, Flaming Minister, remarks that here Desdemona “speaks listlessly [italics mine]; and she pays no heed to the vivid tale begun by her woman of the Venetian lady. … She herself would make a hard pilgrimage for a ‘touch’ of Othello's love.”³ In other words, she does not mean what she says about Lodovico, her mind is really on Othello, and when Emilia talks about touching Lodovico's “nether lip,” Desdemona must, Elliott implies, think of Othello. Similarly, M. R. Ridley, editor of the Arden edition, is evidently bothered by the lines and can only hope they somehow do not belong to Desdemona: “What did Shakespeare intend by this sudden transition to Lodovico? Is Desdemona for a moment ‘matching Othello with her country forms’? One is tempted to wonder whether there has not been a misattribution of speeches, so that this line [38] as well as the next should be Emilia's.”⁴ It is unusual, to say the least, that an editor who has argued so carefully for his preference of the quarto to the folio edition for his copy-text should speculate so carelessly here. He wishes to attribute to Emilia a line that both editions give to Desdemona, make Emilia's lines repetitious (as they would be since “proper” and “handsome” are synonymous), and destroy the rhythm of the dialogue, rather than let Desdemona have the line Shakespeare evidently gave her.⁵

The reason for these efforts to get rid of Desdemona's lines about Lodovico seems obvious. Many critics and scholars come to Shakespeare's play with the idea that Desdemona ought to be pure and virtuous and, above all, unwavering in her faithfulness and loyalty to Othello. The notion is so tenacious that when Desdemona even appears to threaten it, they cannot contemplate her character with their usual care and imagination.

At what appears to be the other extreme is such a critic as W. H. Auden, one of the few who notices the passage and sees it as a significant revelation of Desdemona's character. Viewing her cynically partly on account of it, he remarks: “It is worth noting that, in the willow-song scene with Emilia, she speaks with admiration of Ludovico [sic] and then turns to the topic of adultery. … It is as if she had suddenly realized that she had made a mésalliance and that the sort of man she ought to have married was someone of her own class and colour like Ludovico. Given a few more years of Othello and of Emilia's influence and she might well, one feels, have taken a lover.”⁶ But isn't Auden finally making the same assumption as the others? Doesn't his cynical and easy dismissal of Desdemona imply that he has expected her to be perfect? If she is not, then she must be corrupt. Isn't this Othello's mistake exactly? Either Desdemona is pure or she is the “cunning whore of Venice” (IV.ii.88).

The poles of critical opinion are exactly those presented in the play.⁷ On the one hand is the view of Desdemona the “good” characters have; on the other is the negative vision of her that Iago persuades Othello to accept. At a time when we have become especially careful about adopting any single perspective of a character as the dramatist's or the “right” perspective, why do many critics now simply accept one extreme view of Desdemona or the other? I can only assume that they share a vision Shakespeare presents as limited.

Desdemona's character is neither simple nor any more easily defined than Iago's or Othello's. Any effort to describe it must take into account all of what she says and does as well as what other characters say about her and how their views are limited by their own personalities and values. Though Shakespeare does not give Desdemona center stage with Othello, as he gives Juliet with Romeo and Cleopatra with Antony, he does not keep her in the wings for most of the play, as he does Cordelia or Hermione. She is often present so that we must witness her joy, fear, bewilderment, and pain. What happens to her matters because we see how it affects her as well as Othello. The meaning of the tragedy depends, then, on a clear vision of her character and experience as well as those of Othello and Iago.

II

That Desdemona is neither goddess nor slut Shakespeare makes very clear. He evidently realized that he would have to defend his characterization of her more against the idealization of the essentially good characters than the denigration of the villain. Consequently, though he undermines both extremes, he expends his main efforts in disarming Desdemona's champions rather than her enemy. In her first two appearances, Shakespeare establishes her character and thus holds in balance the diverging views, but he goes out of his way to make her human rather than divine.

He carefully shapes Othello's account of Desdemona to counter Brabantio's initial description of her as “A maiden never bold, / Of spirit so still and quiet that her motion / Blushed at herself” (I.iii.94-96). Because Brabantio is unwilling to believe that Desdemona's “perfection so could err” (l. 100) that she would elope with Othello, he accuses him of seducing her by witchcraft or drugs. In Othello's eloquent defense (ll. 127-69), he shows not only that Brabantio's accusations are false but also that it was Desdemona who invited his courtship. His description of her coming with “greedy ear” to “devour” his tales of cannibals, anthropophagi, and his own exploits suggests that she is starved for excitement and fascinated by Othello because his life has been filled with adventure. She loved him, he says, for the dangers he had passed. So far is Desdemona from being Brabantio's “maiden never bold” that she gave Othello “a world of kisses”⁸ for his pains and clearly indicated that she would welcome his suit:

                                                                                                              She wished
That heaven had made her such a man. She thanked me,
And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her,
I should but teach him how to tell my story,
And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake.

(ll. 161-65)

The scene is carefully managed so as to create sympathy for both Othello and Desdemona. Because Desdemona initiates the courtship, Othello is absolutely exonerated of Brabantio's charge. His cautiousness acknowledges the tenuousness of his position as a black man in Venetian society and is appropriate and even admirable. The Moor cannot be confident of Desdemona's attraction to him, and he undoubtedly knows that marrying him would isolate her from her countrymen. Recognizing Othello's reticence and undoubtedly its causes, Desdemona makes it clear she loves him but, at the same time, maintains a degree of indirection. Shakespeare does not wish to make her seem either shy or overly forward.

When Desdemona finally appears, she strengthens the image Othello has presented. Before the senators, she answers her father's charges forcefully and persuasively, without shyness or reticence. More significantly, it is she, and not Othello, who first raises the possibility of her going to Cyprus. Othello asks only that the senators give his wife “fit disposition” (I.iii.233), but when the Duke asks her preference, Desdemona pleads:

                                        If I be left behind,
A moth of peace, and he go to the war,
The rites for why I love him are bereft me,
And I a heavy interim shall support
By his dear absence. Let me go with him.

(ll. 250-54)

Her wish not to be left behind as a “moth of peace” is a desire not to be treated as someone too fragile to share the intensity of Othello's military life. As though she might have overheard Brabantio tell Othello that she would not have run to his “sooty bosom” (I.ii.69), she confirms her sexual attraction to him as well as her own sexuality by insisting that she wants the full “rites” of her marriage.⁹

Shakespeare must have wanted to make doubly sure of establishing Desdemona's sensuality, for he underscores it the next time she appears. At the beginning of Act II, while she awaits Othello on the shore of Cyprus, her jesting with Iago displays the kind of sexual playfulness that we might have anticipated from Othello's description of their courtship.

As soon as Desdemona arrives at Cyprus, together with Emilia, Iago, and Roderigo, and is greeted by Cassio, she asks about Othello. Immediately a ship is sighted, and someone goes to the harbor to see whether it is Othello's. Anxious about her husband, Desdemona plays a game with Iago to pass the time; in an aside, she remarks, “I am not merry; but I do beguile / The thing I am by seeming otherwise” (II.i.120-21). Their repartee grows out of a debate that Iago begins by accusing Emilia of talking too much. A practiced slanderer of women, he chides both his wife and Desdemona. Although Desdemona rebukes him, “O, fie upon thee, slanderer!” (l. 111), she asks him to write her praise. Instead he comments on general types of women:

IAGO.
If she be fair and wise: fairness and wit,
The one's for use, the other useth it.
DESDEMONA.
Well praised. How if she be black and witty?
IAGO.
If she be black, and thereto have a wit,
She'll find a white that shall her blackness fit.
DESDEMONA.
Worse and worse!

(ll.127-32)

Iago's “praises” commend women for what he might expect Desdemona to regard as faults, and none are without sexual overtones. Though Desdemona remarks that they “are old fond paradoxes to make fools laugh i' th' alehouse” (ll. 136-37), they do not offend her and serve her well enough as a pastime for fifty-five lines, until Othello arrives.

Critics who take an extreme view of Desdemona see her pleasure in this exchange with Iago as a failure of Shakespeare's art. Ridley, for example, comments: “This is to many readers, and I think rightly, one of the most unsatisfactory passages in Shakespeare. To begin with it is unnatural. Desdemona's natural instinct must surely be to go herself to the harbour, instead of asking parenthetically whether someone has gone. Then, it is distasteful to watch her engaged in a long piece of cheap backchat with Iago, and so adept at it that one wonders how much time on the voyage was spent in the same way. All we gain from it is some further unneeded light on Iago's vulgarity” (p. 54 n).¹⁰ But this scene is unnatural for Ridley's Desdemona, not Shakespeare's. What the dramatist gives us here is an extension of the spirited and sensual Desdemona that has been revealed in the first act. Her scene with Iago shows her to be the same woman who could initiate Othello's courtship and complain before the senators about the “rites” she would lose in Othello's absence. Her stance is similar to the one she will take later when she tries to coax Othello into reinstating Cassio. That the scene impedes the dramatic movement too long and that its humor is weak are perhaps legitimate criticisms; to suggest that it distorts Desdemona's character is surely to misunderstand her character.

Shakespeare makes a special effort to maintain the balance of the scene. He keeps Desdemona off a pedestal and shows her to have a full range of human feelings and capacities. Yet he is careful not to allow her to fail in feeling or propriety. The point of her aside is to affirm her concern for Othello as well as to show her personal need to contain anxiety and distance pain and fear. As we see how Desdemona acts under stress later in the play, it seems consistent with her character that she should want a distraction to divert her attention in this extremity. Shakespeare brings the exchange between Desdemona and Iago to a brilliant close as Othello enters and greets his “fair warrior.”¹¹ The sensual import of this moment and his address is surely heightened by what we have seen of Desdemona shortly before.

Shakespeare's delicately poised portrayal of Desdemona to this point prepares us for the splendid antithesis between Iago and Cassio in the middle of the second act:

IAGO.
Our general cast us thus early for the love of his Desdemona; who let us not therefore blame. He hath not yet made wanton the night with her, and she is sport for Jove.
CASSIO.
She's a most exquisite lady.
IAGO.
And, I'll warrant her, full of game.
CASSIO.
Indeed, she's a most fresh and delicate creature.
IAGO.
What an eye she has! Methinks it sounds a parley to provocation.
CASSIO.
An inviting eye; and yet methinks right modest.
IAGO.
And when she speaks, is it not an alarum to love?
CASSIO.
She is indeed perfection.

(II.iii.14-28)

Such a carefully counterpointed exchange invites us to adjust both views.

Iago distorts Desdemona's character by suppressing the side of it that Cassio insists on and emphasizing her sensuality. His suggestions that she is “full of game” and that her eye “sounds a parley to provocation” call up an image of a flirtatious and inconstant woman. Iago's view is clearly limited by his devious purpose and also by his cynical notions about human nature in general and women in particular.

But Cassio's view is limited as well. He idealizes Desdemona as much as her father did. It is evidently clear to Iago that his efforts to persuade Cassio of his vision will fail when he pronounces Desdemona “perfection,” as had Brabantio before him (I.iii.100). The extravagance of language Cassio uses earlier in describing Desdemona must also make his view suspect. For example, he tells Montano that Othello

                                                  hath achieved a maid
That paragons description and wild fame;
One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens,
And in th' essential vesture of creation
Does tire the ingener.

(II.i.61-65)

After the safe arrival of Desdemona and her companion in Cyprus, Cassio rhapsodizes:

Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling winds,
The guttered rocks and congregated sands,
Traitors ensteeped to enclog the guiltless keel,
As having sense of beauty, do omit
Their moral natures, letting go safely by
The divine Desdemona.

(II.i.68-73; italics mine)

This idealization gives as false a picture of Desdemona as Iago's denigration of her. Cassio's lines in fact comment more on his character than on Desdemona's. To accept his view of Desdemona, as many have done, is as grievous a critical mistake as to accept Iago's.

III

Desdemona's liveliness, assertiveness, and sensuality are corroborated in her marrying Othello. The crucial fact of her marriage is not that she elopes but that she, a white woman, weds a black man. Though many critics focus on the universality of experience in Othello,¹² we cannot forget the play's racial context. Othello's blackness is as important as Shylock's Jewishness, and indeed the play dwells relentlessly upon it.¹³

It is underscored heavily from the beginning. The first references to Othello, made by Iago to Roderigo, are to “the Moor” (I.i.37, 54). Roderigo immediately refers to him as “the thick-lips” (I.i.63). He is not called by name until he appears before the senators in scene ii when the Duke of Venice addresses him. He has been referred to as “the Moor” nine times before that moment.

Iago and Roderigo know they may depend on Brabantio's fears of black sexuality and miscegenation. When he appears at his window to answer their summons, Iago immediately cries up to him, “Even now, now, very now, an old black ram / Is tupping your white ewe” (I.i.85-86) and urges him to arise lest “the devil” (l. 88) make a grandfather of him. The tone intensifies as Iago harps on Othello's bestial sexuality. To the uncomprehending and reticent Brabantio he urges impatiently:

                                                                                                              You'll have
your daughter covered with a Barbary horse, you'll
have your nephews neigh to you, you'll have coursers
for cousins, and gennets for germans.

(ll. 107-10)

Mercilessly, he draws a final image: “Your daughter and the Moor are making the beast with two backs” (ll. 112-14). The unimaginative and literal Roderigo adds that Desdemona has gone to the “gross clasps of a lascivious Moor” (l. 123).

Brabantio had “loved” Othello, invited him often to his home, and encouraged him to tell the stories that captivated Desdemona (I.iii.127-31); yet he has the prejudices that Iago and Roderigo expect. Although he had objected earlier to Roderigo as Desdemona's suitor (I.i.92-95), he now commiserates with him, “O, would you had had her!” (I.i.172). Brabantio obviously never imagined that Desdemona could be attracted to Othello because he is black. When Othello appears, he tells him that only if his daughter was enchanted or drugged would she have “run from her guardage to the sooty bosom / Of such a thing as thou—to fear, not to delight” (I.ii.69-70). He cannot believe that she fell in love with what he assumes “she feared to look on!” (I.iii.98).

But even to the other characters who do not have reason to malign Othello as do Iago, Roderigo, and Brabantio, black is not beautiful. Othello is accepted because he is like white men or in spite of his blackness. The Duke tells Brabantio, “Your son-in-law is far more fair than black” (I.iii.285). When Desdemona affirms her love for Othello, she explains, “I saw Othello's visage in his mind” (I.iii.247). More importantly, Othello himself sees his blackness as a defect. When Iago first tries to raise doubts about Desdemona's fidelity, Othello reassures himself, “She had eyes, and chose me” (III.iii.189); that is, she married him despite his blackness. Later, as he begins to believe Iago's insinuations about Desdemona, he laments:

                              My name, that was as fresh
As Dian's visage, is now begrimed and black
As mine own face.

(III.iii.383-85)

Iago knows that he may appeal to Othello's sense that his blackness is a liability to undermine his faith in Desdemona. He warns him that Desdemona's “will, recoiling to her better judgment,” may begin to “match” him “with her country forms, / And happily repent” (III.iii.236-38).

Othello's blackness is further associated with a lack of grace, particularly with a lack of manners and eloquence. Mistakenly imagining that he speaks ineloquently, Othello apologizes to the senators before he addresses them, “Rude am I in my speech, / And little blessed with the soft phrase of peace” (I.iii.81-82). Later when he finds causes in himself for Desdemona's supposed infidelity, he considers one possibility, “Haply for I am black / And have not those soft parts of conversation / That chamberers have” (III.iii.262-64). Iago will, of course, take advantage of Othello's superficial deficiencies; he tries to persuade Roderigo that Desdemona will tire of Othello because the Moor lacks “loveliness in favor, sympathy in years, manners, and beauties” (II.i.227-28). It is probable that Othello takes Cassio with him when he courts Desdemona to compensate for what he considers his own insufficiency. The Florentine aristocrat is distinguished for his handsomeness, grace, and eloquence.

Critics speculate about what Othello's marriage to Desdemona means for him but usually fail to consider what it means for her to marry someone so completely an outsider. What are we to make of Desdemona's choosing Othello rather than one of her own countrymen? Brabantio tells Othello that Desdemona has “shunned / The wealthy, curlèd darlings of our nation” (I.ii.66-67). It seems incredible to him that, having done so, she should then choose Othello. But Shakespeare intends to suggest that the “curlèd darlings” of Italy leave something to be desired; the image implies preciousness and perhaps effeminacy. He expects us to find her choice understandable and even admirable.

Of all Desdemona's reputed suitors, we see only Roderigo. The easy gull of Iago and mawkishly lovesick, he is obviously not worthy of Desdemona. When Othello and Desdemona leave for Cyprus, Roderigo tells Iago, “I will incontinently drown myself” (I.iii.300), and we cannot help but assent to Iago's estimation of him as a “silly gentleman” (I.iii.302). Even Brabantio agrees that he is unsuitable, for he tells him, “My daughter is not for thee” (I.i.95). Only by comparing him to Othello does he find him acceptable.

The only other character who might be a suitor for Desdemona is Cassio. But it occurs to neither Cassio nor Desdemona that he should court her. Shakespeare makes him a foil to Othello and characterizes him so as to suggest what Desdemona might have found wanting in her countrymen. He is evidently handsome and sexually attractive. In soliloquy, where he may be trusted, Iago remarks that “Cassio's a proper man” (I.iii.381) and that “he hath a person and a smooth dispose / To be suspected—framed to make women false” (ll. 386-87). Drawing Cassio as one who is “handsome, young, and hath all those requisites in him that folly and green minds look after” (II.i.244-45), Iago persuades Roderigo that Cassio is most likely to be second after Othello in Desdemona's affections. In soliloquy again, Iago makes clear that he thinks Cassio loves Desdemona: “That Cassio loves her, I do well believe 't” (II.i.285).

Though he is handsome and has all the surface graces, Cassio is wanting in manliness. Shakespeare certainly intends Cassio's inability to hold his liquor to undermine his character. He gives this trait mainly to comic figures, such as Sir Toby Belch, or villains, like Claudius. Once drunk, the mild-mannered Cassio is “full of quarrel and offense” (II.iii.50). His knowledge of his weakness (II.iii.39-42) might mitigate it, but even aware of it, he succumbs easily. Though at first he refuses Iago's invitation to drink with the Cypriots, he gives in later with only a little hesitation to Iago's exclamation, “What, man! 'Tis a night of revels, the gallants desire it” (II.iii.43-44). His lack of discipline here and his subsequent behavior that disgraces him lend some credence to Iago's objections to Othello's preferring him as lieutenant.

Cassio's relationship with Bianca also calls his masculinity in question. Nowhere else does Shakespeare show a man of Cassio's rank keeping company with prostitutes. His affair with Bianca tends to reduce him to the level of Touchstone, though Bianca is far superior to Audrey. Yet his friendship with Bianca in itself does not discredit him as much as his behavior towards her. He makes fun of her behind her back; Iago tells us, “He, when he hears of her, cannot restrain / From the excess of laughter” (IV.i.99-100). Yet when she confronts him, angry because she believes he is unfaithful to her, and threatens to stop seeing him, he anxiously follows after her for fear “she'll rail in the streets” (IV.i.162).

Cassio is, then, as Auden has described him, something of a “ladies' man” (p. 10), who idealizes women of his own social class and spends his time with prostitutes. He serves ideally to help Othello woo Desdemona because he has no interest in her sexually; he would keep her “divine” Desdemona. The embodiment of style, Cassio is hollow at the core. But just as he knows that he has a tendency toward drunkenness, so he recognizes his own impotence. As he awaits Othello's ship on Cyprus, he prays that “Great Jove” will guard it so that Othello can “Make love's quick pants in Desdemona's arms, / Give renewed fire to our extincted spirits” (II.i.80-81). In this last line he recognizes a potency in Othello that he finds wanting in himself and those around him. Desdemona enters immediately, and Cassio's striking address, following his anticipation of Othello's and Desdemona's sexual union, underscores his sexual failing:

O, behold! The riches of the ship is come on shore!
You men of Cyprus, let her have your knees.
          Kneeling.
Hail to thee, lady! and the grace of heaven,
Before, behind thee, and on every hand,
Enwheel thee round.

(II.i.82-86)

As Alfred Harbage has remarked, his greeting suggests “a prayer to the Virgin”;¹⁴ the extravagance of these lines and others that describe Desdemona point up Cassio's tendency to idealize her.

Desdemona's marrying a man different from Roderigo, Cassio, and the other “curlèd darlings” of Italy is to her credit. She must recognize in Othello a dignity, energy, excitement, and power that all around her lack. Since these qualities are attributable to his heritage, she may be said to choose him because he is African, black, an outsider. When she says she saw Othello's visage in his mind, she suggests that she saw beneath the surface to those realities that seemed to offer more promise of life. If the myth of black sexuality (which Othello's character denies at every turn) operates for Desdemona, as it does for some of the other characters,¹⁵ it can only enhance Othello's attractiveness for her as she compares him with the pale men around her.

Desdemona shows courage and a capacity for risk in choosing Othello, for it puts her in an extreme position, cutting her off from her father and countrymen. Brabantio in effect disowns her since he would not have allowed her to live with him after her marriage (I.iii.237) if she had not been permitted to go with Othello to Cyprus. His last words are not to her, but to Othello, and they cut deep: “Look to her, Moor, if thou hast eyes to see: / She has deceived her father, and may thee” (I.iii.287-88). Later we learn that Brabantio died of grief over the marriage (V.ii.204-206). We are to disapprove of Desdemona's deception no more than we are to disapprove of Juliet's similar deception of Capulet, or Hermia's of Egeus. Shakespeare gives Brabantio's character a comic tinge so that our sympathies do not shift from Desdemona to him.

That her marriage separates her from society is implied because of the attitudes we hear expressed toward Othello, but it is also made explicit. Brabantio does not believe that Desdemona would have married Othello unless she had been charmed partially because of his sense that she will “incur a general mock” (I.ii.68). After Othello has insulted Desdemona, Emilia's question of Iago makes clear what lines have been drawn: “Hath she forsook … Her father and her country, and her friends, / To be called whore?” (IV.ii.124-26). Desdemona does not marry Othello ignorant of the consequences; when she pleads with the Duke to allow her to go to Cyprus, she proclaims:

That I love the Moor to live with him,
My downright violence, and storm of fortunes,
May trumpet to the world.

(I.iii.243-45)

She knows her action is a “storm of fortunes.” Her willigness to risk the censure of her father and society is some measure of her capacity for love, even though her love is not based on complete knowledge. She does not see Othello clearly and cannot anticipate any of the difficulties that must necessarily attend his spirited life. Her elopement is more surely a measure of her determination to have a life that seems to offer the promise of excitement and adventure denied her as a sheltered Venetian senator's daughter.

IV

Because Desdemona cuts herself off from her father and friends and marries someone from a vastly different culture, she is even more alone on Cyprus than she would ordinarily have been in a strange place and as a woman in a military camp besides. These circumstances, as well as her character and experience, account in part for the turn the tragedy takes.

At the beginning she unwittingly plays into Iago's hands by insisting that Othello reinstate Cassio immediately. On the one hand, she cannot know what web of evil Iago is weaving to trap her. On the other, her behavior in this matter is not entirely without fault. It is only natural that Desdemona should wish Cassio reinstated since he is her old friend and, except for Emilia, her only close friend on Cyprus. But her insistence is excessive. She assures Cassio that Othello “shall never rest” (III.iii.22) until he promises to restore the lieutenant's position, and indeed, she makes sure that he never does. Yet her persistence does not seem necessary, for Emilia has assured Cassio earlier:

                              All will sure be well.
The general and his wife are talking of it,
And she speaks for you stoutly. The Moor replies
That he you hurt is of great fame in Cyprus
And great affinity, and that in wholesome wisdom
He might not but refuse you. But he protests he loves you,
And needs no other suitor but his likings
To bring you in again.

(III.i.41-48)

Desdemona harps on her single theme playfully, teasingly. Her manner is no different from that which she took when she courted Othello or jested with Iago. Her vision seems not to extend beyond the range that allowed her to manage domestic life in Brabantio's quiet household.

As soon as Othello's jealousy and rage begin to manifest themselves, Desdemona's forthrightness and courage start to desert her. She can no longer summon up those resources that might help her. She is not as fragile as Ophelia; she will not go mad. But neither is she as resilient or as alert to possibilities as Juliet, who was probably younger and no more experienced than she. Before Juliet takes the potion the Friar has prepared to make her appear dead, she considers whether he might have mixed a poison instead, since he would be dishonored if it were known he had married her to Romeo (IV.iii.24-27). She confronts the possibility of evil, weighs her own position, and takes the risk she feels she must. There is never such a moment for Desdemona.

Under the pressure of Othello's anger, Desdemona lies to him, by denying she has lost the handkerchief he gave her, and makes herself appear guilty. Her action is perfectly understandable. To begin with, she feels guilty about losing it, for she has told Emilia earlier that if Othello were given to jealousy, “it were enough / To put him to ill thinking” (III.iv.28-29). But more important, she lies out of fear, as her initial response to Othello indicates:

Why do you speak so startingly and rash?
OTHELLO.
Is't lost? Is't gone? Speak, is it out o' th' way?
DESDEMONA.
Heaven bless us!

(III.iv.79-81)

Then she becomes defensive: “It is not lost. But what an if it were?” At this point Othello's demeanor must be incredibly frightening. Shortly before this moment he has knelt with Iago to vow vengeance against Desdemona if she proves unfaithful, and moments later, he is so enraged that he “falls in a trance” (IV.i.44). In this sudden crisis, latent fears of Othello that are inevitably part of Desdemona's cultural experience must be called into play. Her compounded terror destroys her capacity for addressing him with the courage and dignity that she had summoned in facing her father and the senators when they called her actions in question.

If Desdemona has wanted the heights of passion, she finds its depths instead. That she is simply bewildered and unable to respond more forcefully to Othello's subsequent fury is attributable to several causes. To begin with, his change is sudden and extreme. When Lodovico arrives from Venice and meets the raging Othello, he asks incredulously:

Is this the noble Moor whom our full Senate
Call all in all sufficient? Is this the nature
Whom passion could not shake? whose solid virtue
The shot of accident nor dart of chance
Could neither graze nor pierce?

(IV.i.262-66)

Noble Othello is like the flower that festers and smells far worse than weeds. Only Iago anticipates the full possibilities of his corruption.

But the most important causes of Desdemona's powerlessness lie within herself. She idealizes Othello and cannot recognize that he is as susceptible to irrationality and evil as other men. She tells Emilia that her “noble Moor / Is true of mind, and made of no such baseness / As jealous creatures are.” Evidently surprised, Emilia asks if he is not jealous, and Desdemona replies as though the suggestion were preposterous: “Who? He? I think the sun where he was born / Drew all such humors from him” (III.iv.26-31). Though Emilia immediately suspects that Othello is jealous (III.iv.98), Desdemona does not credit her suspicions since she “never gave him cause” (l. 156). Emilia tries to explain that jealousy is not rational and does not need a cause:

But jealous souls will not be answered so;
They are not ever jealous for the cause,
But jealous for they're jealous. It is a monster
Begot upon itself, born on itself.

(ll. 157-60)

Though Iago provokes Othello, his jealousy, as Emilia says, arises out of his own susceptibility. He has romanticized Desdemona, as she has him. Forced to confront the fact that she is human and therefore capable of treachery, he is threatened by his own vulnerability to her. If he cannot keep himself invulnerable by idealizing her, then he will do so by degrading her. His fears are heightened because he thinks his blackness, age, and lack of elegance make him less attractive sexually than Cassio.

Despite the worsening crisis, Desdemona will not be instructed by Emilia, nor will she alter her view of Othello so that she might understand and possibly confront what is happening. Her only defense is to maintain an appalling innocence. The more she must struggle to keep her innocence in the face of the overwhelming events of the last two acts, the more passive and less able to cope she becomes.¹⁶ She must hold on to it for two reasons. First, nothing of her life in the rarefied atmosphere of Brabantio's home and society could have anticipated this moment, and nothing in her being can rise to meet it now. Therefore, she must close it out. Second, if she is deserted by her husband, there is nowhere for her to turn. Rather than suffer the terror and pain of her isolation, she must deny that it exists.

Shakespeare's portrayal of Desdemona from the beginning of Act IV until her death illustrates how finely and clearly he had conceived her character and how well he understood the psychology of a mind under pressure. As Iago's poison works and Othello becomes more convinced of Desdemona's guilt and increasingly madder with rage, Desdemona will become gradually more passive and continually frame means of escape in her imagination.

After the brothel scene, when Othello leaves calling Desdemona the “cunning whore of Venice” (IV.ii.88) and throwing money to Emilia as to a madam, Desdemona is stunned. Emilia asks, “Alas, what does this gentleman conceive? / How do you, madam? How do you, my good lady?”; Desdemona replies, “Faith, half asleep” (IV.ii.94-96). The action is too quick for her to be literally asleep; Othello has just that moment left. Rather, she is dazed;¹⁷ her mind simply cannot take in what it encounters. Almost at once she begins to look for ways out. Directing Emilia to put her wedding sheets on the bed (IV.ii.104), she hopes to be able to go back in time, to recover the brief happiness and harmony she and Othello shared when they were newly married. Though she will subsequently assert that she approves of Othello's behavior (IV.ii.106; iii.20-22), part of her will not approve and will continue to create fantasies to save herself.

Next, Desdemona begins to anticipate her death, directing Emilia to shroud her in her wedding sheets if she should die (IV.iii.26-27) and singing the willow song. She not only foreshadows her death but also expresses an unconscious desire for it. Her preface to the song makes her wish clear:

My mother had a maid called Barbary.
She was in love; and he she loved proved mad
And did forsake her. She had a song of “Willow”;
An old thing 'twas, but it expressed her fortune,
And she died singing it. That song tonight
Will not go from my mind; I have much to do
But to go hang my head all at one side
And sing it like poor Barbary.

(IV.iii.28-35)

That the song will not go from her mind and that she has “much to do” to keep from hanging her head and singing it suggest the insistence of a death wish. To express a desire for death here and to plead with Othello later to let her live is not inconsistent. Death wishes are more often hopes of finding peace and escape rather than real wishes to die. The song itself—quiet, soporific—promises calm in contrast to Othello's raging.

Just before Desdemona sings, she starts the conversation about Lodovico quoted at the beginning. That she thinks of Lodovico when she is undressing to go to bed with Othello suggests that she is still trying to find a way around the emergency of the moment. She admires Lodovico as “a proper man”—precisely the phrase Iago used to describe Cassio (I.iii.381)—and as one who “speaks well,” calling up those qualities that Cassio has and Othello lacks. Since the man Desdemona has loved, married, and risked her social position for has turned into a barbarian and a madman, she unconsciously longs for a man like Lodovico—a handsome, white man, with those attributes she recognizes as civilized.¹⁸ In her heart she must feel she has made a mistake.

Desdemona does not know the world, or herself, for that matter. Like Lear, she has been led to believe she is “ague-proof.” At the end of Act IV Shakespeare makes it certain, if he has not before, that she is self-deceived and that there is a great discrepancy between what she unconsciously feels and what she consciously acknowledges. When Desdemona asks Emilia whether she would cuckold her husband “for all the world,” Emilia plays with the question, answering, “The world's a huge thing; it is a great price for a small vice” (IV.iii.71-73). Desdemona finally says she does not think “there is any such woman” who would (IV.iii.88). Her comment underscores her need to close out knowledge that might threaten her. Coming as it does after the passage about Lodovico, her remark can only emphasize her pitiable need to maintain an innocence that must inevitably court ruin.

Like Sleeping Beauty waiting for the prince's kiss, Desdemona is asleep when Othello comes. When he threatens her, the most she can do is plead for her life. Desdemona is not Hermione, who has the wisdom to know that if Leontes doubts her fidelity, she cannot convince him of her chastity by insisting on it. And unlike Hermione, Desdemona merely asserts her innocence rather than reproaches her husband, with whom the final blame must lie. She can only lament that she is “undone” (V.ii.76) and beg for time. She acts differently from the heroine of The Winter's Tale not only because she is more fragile and less wise but also because her accuser is not a white man following at least the forms of justice in a court. Othello is a black man with rolling eyes (V.ii.38) coming to do “justice” in her bedroom at night.

When Desdemona revives for a moment after Othello has stifled her, she affirms her guiltlessness (V.ii.122) and to Emilia's asking who has “done this deed,” she answers, “Nobody—I myself. Farewell. / Commend me to my kind lord” (V.ii.123-25). Her answer is often thought of as an effort to protect Othello. Had Othello stabbed Desdemona, then the notion is plausible that she might pretend to have killed herself to save him. But Desdemona could not have smothered or strangled herself. I think her answer acknowledges instead her full responsibility for her marriage and its consequences. What her implied forgiveness of Othello means is unclear. Her remark of a moment before, “A guiltless death I die,” must be rendered with pain or anger, so her forgiveness may merely follow her old pattern of denying what she feels and acknowledging what she must; in other words, it may be unfelt. If her forgiveness is genuinely felt, however, it might suggest that Desdemona has come to see Othello with the prejudices of her countrymen and to regard him as acting according to a barbarian nature that will not allow him to act otherwise.¹⁹ She forgives him, then, as she would a child. Or at its best, her pardoning Othello means that she is finally capable of an ideal love, one that does not alter “when it alteration finds” or bend “with the remover to remove.” But even if we see Desdemona as acting out of pure love, as most critics do, her triumph is undercut because she never confronts the full and unyielding knowledge in the face of which true love and forgiveness must maintain themselves. Furthermore, there is no ritual of reconciliation between Desdemona and Othello. Though Othello is by Desdemona's side when she forgives him, she uses the third person and speaks to Emilia.

Othello learns that he is wrong, that Iago, whom he trusted, has deceived him heartlesstly, monstrously. But he never understands what in himself allowed him to become prey to Iago. The final truth for him is that he has thrown a pearl away. His suicide is a despairing act. He finally sees himself as unblessed and bestial—beyond mercy. Paradoxically, his only redemption must come through self-execution.

Othello is surely one of Shakespeare's bleakest tragedies. Given their characters and experience, both personal and cultural, Desdemona and Othello must fail. They do not know themselves, and they cannot know each other. Further, they never understand the way the world fosters their misperceptions. We must watch as Othello is reduced from a heroic general, with dignity, assurance, and power to a raging, jealous husband and murderer, out of control and duped by Iago. We see Desdemona lose her energy, vitality, and courage for living to become fearful and passive. Both suffer the pains of deception, real or supposed loss of love, final powerlessness, and death. Tragedy never allows its protagonists to escape suffering and death, but it often graces them with the knowledge of life, without which they cannot have lived in the fullest sense. Yet for all their terrible suffering, Desdemona and Othello are finally denied even that knowledge.

Notes

1. William Shakespeare, The Complete Signet Classic Shakespeare, ed. Sylvan Barnet (New York: Harcourt, 1972). All quotations from Shakespeare are from this edition.

2. Magic in the Web (Lexington: Univ. of Kentucky Press, 1956).

3. Flaming Minister (Durham, N.C.: Duke Univ. Press, 1953), p. 203.

4. Othello (1958; rpt. New York: Random, 1967), p. 166n.

5. In The Stranger in Shakespeare (New York: Stein and Day, 1972), Leslie Fiedler forgets that it is Desdemona who begins the conversation about Lodovico when he comments that Emilia “appears to be tempting poor Desdemona by evoking the charms of … Lodovico” (p. 166).

6. “The Alienated City: Reflections on ‘Othello,’” Encounter, 17 (1961), 13.

7. Most critics, too many to cite, see Desdemona as wholly good and virtuous, even saintly. Those not mentioned elsewhere in this paper who have a negative or mixed view of her are: Richard Flatter, The Moor of Venice (London: William Heineman, 1950); L. A. G. Strong, “Shakespeare and the Psychologists,” Literature and Psychology, 14 (1964), 56-61; Robert Dickes, “Desdemona: An Innocent Victim?,” American Imago, 27 (1970), 279-97; Stephen Reid, “Desdemona's Guilt,” American Imago, 27 (1970), 245-62; and Janet Overmyer, “Shakespeare's Desdemona: A Twentieth Century View,” The University Review, 37 (1971), 304-305.

8. Though using the Folio edition, which reads “kisses,” as copy-text, editors adopt the quarto's “sighs” more often than not; Alvin Kernan, editor of the Signet Othello, is a pleasing exception. Though most offer no explanation for the gratuitous change, “kisses” evidently violates their sense of Desdemona's character and the dramatic situation. The differences in the Folio and quarto texts prompt some of Ridley's most unpromising speculation: “Perhaps the compositor had recently been setting a passage in which ‘world of kisses’ occurred, and it stuck in his mind.” He finds it “hard to imagine anyone making the alteration deliberately” (p. 30n). Ridley, of course, is justified in retaining “sighs” since his copy-text is the quarto edition.

9. Ridley (p. 36n) compares Shakespeare's use of “rites” here to Romeo and Juliet, III.ii.8-9: “‘Lovers can see to do their amorous rites / By their own beauties.’”

10. So strong are Ridley's objections to this passage that he even calls Thomas Rymer to his aid; he quotes from A Short View of Tragedy (1693): “‘Now follows a long rabble of Jack-pudding farce [i.e. stuffing, padding] between Jago and Desdemona, that runs on with all the little plays, jingle, and trash below the patience of any Country Kitchenmaid with her Sweetheart … and when every moment she might expect to hear her Lord (as she calls him) that she runs so mad after, is arrived or lost’” (p. 54n).

11. Desdemona is obviously Othello's “warrior” because she has come to battle along with him, but his address has sexual implications as well. It recalls the opening line of Spenser's “Sonnett LVII” in the Amoretti: “Sweet warriour when shall I have peace with you?”

12. Heilman sees the play as “a drama about Everyman” (p. 139); Leo Kirschbaum (“The Modern Othello,” ELH, 11 [1944]) regards Othello as a “romantic idealist” (p. 289); R. N. Hallstead (“Idolatrous Love: A New Approach to Othello,” Shakespeare Quarterly, 19 [1968]) finds in him the pattern of “idolatrous love” (p. 107); Wilson Knight (The Wheel of Fire, 5th ed. [1930; rev. New York: Meridian Books, 1958]) sees in Desdemona and Othello “essential” man and woman (p. 111).

13. Studies by Eldred D. Jones (Othello's Countrymen [London: Oxford Univ. Press, 1965] and The Elizabethan Image of Africa [Charlottesville: The Univ. Press of Virginia, 1971]) and G. K. Hunter (“Othello and Colour Prejudice,” Proceedings of the British Academy, 8 [1967], 139-63) deal with Elizabethan attitudes toward blacks and affirm that they were not generally regarded with tolerance. Two articles that examine the way racial attitudes work in Othello are Miriam Halevy's “The Racial Problem in Shakespeare” in The Jewish Quarterly, 14, No. 2 (1966), 3-9; and K. W. Evans's “The Racial Factor in Othello” in Shakespeare Studies, 5 (1969), 124-40.

14. William Shakespeare: A Reader's Guide (1963; rpt. New York: Farrar, 1970), p. 351.

15. The myth is apparent in Iago's and Roderigo's efforts to incite Brabantio (see pp. [17-18] above) and in lago's absurd suspicions that Othello has slept with Emilia as well as in the rumors that give fuel to those suspicions (I.iii.375-77; II.i.294-95; IV.ii.144-46).

16. Many have commented on Desdemona's passiveness, but there is no indication that Shakespeare means us to see it with the condescension of Fiedler, who describes her as becoming a “passive, whimpering Griselda” (p. 142), or Allardyce Nicoll, who sees her as becoming “a mere slave” to Othello (Studies in Shakespeare [London: Hogarth, 1927], p. 88).

17. Compare Nicoll, p. 92.

18. Though my view differs from his, Harley Granville-Barker, in Prefaces to Shakespeare (Princeton: Princeton Univ. Press, 1947), is the only critic who sees Lodovico as having a significant function in the play (II, 57-60).

19. The play, of course, does not support such a view of Othello; G. K. Hunter comments: “The fact that the darkness of ‘Hell and night’ spreads from Iago and then takes over Othello—this fact at least should prevent us from supposing that the blackness is inherent in Othello's barbarian nature” (p. 159).