Inarticulate Passion: Love's Dysfunction in Othello
primary aim of Shakespeare’s Othello centers upon, I believe, the
protagonist's inability to consummate his marriage, a union that both
figuratively and literally represents an articulation of speech and action,
whereas through his union with Desdemona an erotic desire should transform all
things physical into a more spiritual realm of confident, expressive love.
But from the first moments of Shakespeare's play to the final scene,
sexual union becomes anticipated, delayed, and then ultimately blasphemed into a
grotesque parody of love’s consummate action.
Expectations of the ecstatic, while continually piqued, are not fulfilled
until that fateful moment when, in a most ironic, unexpected way, Desdemona's
bridal bed achieves a different sort of passion, suggesting the aberration of
love in the violent act of rape. Whereas
the play speaks of eros, erotic passion is left surprisingly inarticulate;
that is, love finds no means for expression, has no voice, and thus never
achieves fulfillment. Thus, in
parallel fashion, the actions of Othello provide an equitable mirror of
his failure to realize a change from physical desire into a nobler spiritual
promise of eros teasingly appears in Iago's lewd insinuations at the
beginning of the play, as he coarsely informs Desdemona's father of the pair's
elopement: "an old black ram / Is tupping your white ewe" (1.1.88-89;
here and throughout, The Arden Shakespeare ed., quarto text).
No imagination can fail to grasp the "otherness" of Iago's
inference of the older black warrior as he embraces the young, white nobleman's
daughter. But Iago's animalistic
image, which suggests the unabashed urgency of passion, is premature, which
establishes a dichotomy between the promised and the fulfilled. Not until the final scene of the play does the forbidden seem
to offer realization, when the audience, like voyeurs peering into their
neighbor's window, sees the bedroom of the Moor and his sleeping bride.
The moment, Michael Neill observes, exposes "the private scene of
the bed to a shockingly public gaze."1
The image appeals to our seamier curiosities about embracing and loving
the forbidden. Thus, as an audience, our fascinations for the erotic and
exotic, that which we wonder privately about but fear to utter aloud, become blended into a single
However, between the promise of eros and the surrender to thanatos,
passion gradually assumes a changed form: love becomes passive and
dysfunctional, ironically giving way to repressed violence. By the play's end, the ecstatic union of love and sexuality
is no longer possible, but exists only in an aberrant mockery of what was
anticipated, as violence defines passion's role and actively assumes its voice.
absence of passion's voice, and therefore vehicle for Othello's love, lies at
the heart of the tragedy, with his exotic blackness within a white society
merely heightening an inability to vocalize his needs and grievances.
The play, I suggest, is less one of alienation and differences--the black
Othello in a marriage to a "super subtle Venetian"--than a play where
unarticulated passion and erotic dysfunction convey a basic theme of tragedy: waste, impotent visions, and things ended too soon.
While the play Othello repeatedly anticipates the erotic, in
reality the play purposely frustrates, denying our expectations. But principally, Othello's increasing inarticulateness
in the play, symbolized by his failure to consummate his marriage, informs
the tragedy as it truncates reason, sexual union, and ultimately life.
In Othello's several frustrating metamorphoses, from "gentle
lord" to repressed sadist, sexuality directly relates to his martial and
reasoning abilities: feeling and doing are one; passion and articulation remain
lover's words, particularly in poetic drama, are found in his gestures and acts
of wooing; yet Othello's "action" in expressing his love for Desdemona
is never realized, which establishes a deliberate opacity between what is and
what appears to be. This
reality/appearance dichotomy is physicalized by Othello's blackness, the color
of the devil on English folk stages and perhaps in some miracle plays.
Lucifer, according to the biblical paraphrase The Genesis and Exodus
(c.1250), took flight after the war in heaven and set his seat on the north side
of heaven between heaven and hell becoming, as a result, a black drake.
Yet when the characters speak, it is Iago, in this perverted Edenesque
trinity, that an Elizabethan audience would recognize as a devil or Vice figure,
despite his expressions of friendship, loyalty, and goodness--as Othello makes
clear when, at the end of the tragedy, he realizes what Iago had done to him:
"I look down towards his feet; but that's a fable" (5.2.286).
connection between articulation and action was of course a basic tenet of
Renaissance rhetoric, and the orator and Elizabethan stage actor shared many
Thomas Wilson's Arte of Rhetorique echoed Quintilian's advice that
the orator moved his audience through true emotions, artfully controlled (Institutio
Oratoria 11.3.61-623). In
Thomas Wright's Passions of the Minde (1604), a scientific reason was
given for the necessity of "truth": passion is active, moving
physically from the heart, to outward gestures, to its reception by an audience;
the believability of the action is determined by the expressiveness and
truthfulness of the emotion4. Actions,
therefore, reveal the force and intent of truthful passions, persuading us of
the sincerity of the orator who uses them.
Titus Andronicus, Shakespeare plays upon this idea of the orator needing
a proper action to be persuasive. Action
is the vehicle of this early tragedy. After Titus cuts off his hand to appease the Emperor (3.1),
he loses more than his ability to fight, grotesquely emphasized when he plays
upon the word "hand" for the final two acts of the play: "what
violent hands can she lay on her life" (3.2.25), "O, handle not the
theme, to talk of hands" (3.2.29), "thou shalt have justice at his
hands" (4.3.104), and "I'll be at hand, sir; see you do it
bravely" (4.3.108). The image
suggests that Titus has no voice, as certainly as his ravished daughter Lavinia,
whose tongue has been cut out, because he lacks a hand to give gesture to his
words even as she lacks a voice. He is stage mute, having neither speech nor demonstrable
emotions. Speaking to his brother
Marcus, Titus says: "Thy niece and I, poor creatures, want our hands / And
cannot passionate our ten-fold grief / With folded arms" (3.2.5-7).
like manner, the character Othello is equally inarticulate, having no voice, no
commensurate action to express his emotions.
For Iago, saying and doing are contradictory; his passions are false, and
thus actions come easily to him. Like
Titus, Othello is left stage mute, reduced to an impotent lover, warrior, and
cuckold in progressive, measurable stages.
The insidiousness of Time, as in several of Shakespeare's earlier plays,
becomes the agent of fate--in this instance, more specifically, the agent of
dysfunction. Whereas several weeks
pass in the course of the play, the "feel" is one of
concentrated--though interrupted--moments, admitting no opportunity for the
couple to have shared their bed. At
the end of Act 1, Desdemona announces publicly her love and duty for Othello,
but the impending war with the Turks interrupts their marriage night: "Come
Desdemona, I have but an hour / Of love, of worldly matters, and direction / To
spend with thee; we must obey the time" (1.3.298-300). In Act 2, at least a se'nnight--seven days--later, their love
has yet to be consummated: "come my dear love, / The purchase made, the
fruits are to ensue, / The profit's yet to come 'twixt me and you"
(2.3.8-10). Another thirty-three
hours passes from this point to the end of the play, yet repeated interruptions
prevent their union. In passion
denied, Othello's jealousy achieves its own ardor; or, as Shakespeare expressed
it in Macbeth, it is a "torture of the mind to lie / In restless
ecstasy" (3.2.21-22; Arden ed.)
With each postponement of passion's consummation, Othello progressively loses
his ability to speak, to reason, to act. After
their elopement and in anticipation of their marriage bed, we see the Moor as
articulate lover, politic statesman, and confident warrior.
As the bridegroom Othello meets Desdemona's angry father Brabantio and
his party in the street, he prevents bloodshed with straightforward calm:
"Keep up you bright swords, for the dew will rust 'em; / Good signior, you
shall more command with years / Than with your weapons" (1.2.58-61).
The lack of an action is notable, particularly in one skilled as a
soldier. Desdemona's love, it would
seem, has tempered one form of passion and substituted another, though Othello
is not blind to the differences: "Hold your hands, / Both you of my
inclining and the rest: / Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it, /
Without a prompter" (81-84). However,
by play's end even Othello's martial skills are suspect: when confronted by
Montano and Gratiano after Desdemona's murder, the warrior Othello manages to
lose his sword twice, symbolically suggesting his reduction to impotent cuckold
in a French farce.
the play's beginning, Othello's gifts for articulate speech equal his military
prowess, which symbolize confident manhood.
When faced with Brabantio's charge that witchcraft was used to steal his
naive daughter's love, Othello reveals the passive, yet effectively terse nature
of his wooing:
. . still the house-affairs would draw her thence,
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
I did consent,
of their courtship and love exquisitely reflects the lover’s eloquence by
means of its honest brevity: "She lov'd me for the dangers I had pass'd, /
And I lov'd her that she did pity them. /
This only is the witchcraft I have us'd" (167-170).
It remains noteworthy, however, to suggest that such articulate
expression appears in the absence of Desdemona; their “togetherness“ on
stage never achieves the eloquence of Othello’s appraisal of their love, which
is to say that even as their speech never consummates their love, so their
actions fail as well, until the play’s end, when the Moor’s intentions lean
toward thanatos, not eros.
as Iago's evil machinations take shape and the Moor begins to doubt his wife's
fidelity, Othello progressively loses his ability to speak coherently and thus,
as he fears, his ability to reason: "Excellent wretch, perdition catch my
soul, / But I do love thee, and when I love thee not, / Chaos is come
again" (3.3.91-93). To insure
that disorder and uncertainty come to Othello, Iago treats him like a confused
and disordered child, telling the Moor no direct lies but inferring the worst
through stealth and innuendo. In a
telling reminder of Satan's gifts for half-truths and distortion rather than
deliberate lies, Iago's temptation of Othello demonstrates that the Moor, like
God's first creatures, is not far from the essential miracle of creation, when
order was imposed upon Chaos.
his purposes, Iago taints first Othello's imagination, then co-opts his speech.
Like John of the Cross, Othello undergoes a dark night of the soul--but
his meditations are perpetually disturbed before he can achieve the ecstatic
moment. In his first soliloquy, which does not occur until Act 3
(3.3.246), Othello asks himself "Why did I marry?" only to have Iago
reappear and interrupt him after two lines, thus suggesting the degree of his
profane insinuation into Othello's private thoughts.
Othello, even private meditation can no longer be satisfactorily articulated,
leaving him reliant upon what others say and do. When he demands an action that will prove his love a whore,
"ocular proof" of Desdemona's adultery, Iago manages to steal a
handkerchief, a love token given her by the Moor, and put it in the hands of her
alleged lover, the unsuspecting Michael Cassio. The object, a small white scarf with embroidered
strawberries, is said to possess magical powers: "'Tis true, there's magic
in the web of it... / The worms were hallow'd that did breed the silk, / And it
was dyed in mummy, which the skilful / Conserve of maidens' hearts"
(3.4.73). The man who used a
lover's articulation to woo his bride has now descended into superstition in
order to bolster his romantic ineptitude.
than one critic has noted the handkerchief's erotic appeal, suggesting its
symbolic association with the blood stained sheets of the marriage night.5
Equally valid, however, is the scarf's representation of binding love,
which Desdemona attempts but fails to tie about the head of the distempered
Othello in order to relieve his headache. With
its symbolic investment of unrealized passion and his inability to secure his
marriage, the missing love token sets off a chain of ideas within Othello that
robs him of coherent speech. Iago
purposely uses the handkerchief to best advantage, claiming that Cassio would
deny how he came by it and merely "lie":
With her, on her, what you will.
Lie with her, lie on her? ..Handkerchief--confessions--handkerchief!
After a tortured free association of ideas, Othello finally loses all coherence,
collapsing in a seizure at the feet of the triumphant Iago, who says above the
debased body of his general, "Work on, / My medicine, work"
(4.1.34-45). Through the duplicity
of Iago, whose subterfuge throughout the play takes aim at stealing Othello's
voice, and thus his ability to consummate his marriage, Othello's articulated
passion has degenerated into the wild, syntactically chaotic world of voiceless
unconsciousness. His otherness
becomes further differentiated, casting him in a light of the uncivilized
parvenu who has no rights within the articulate, subtle society of the ruling
thievery of Othello's voice achieves a focused measure of horror through two
biblical allusions, which convey the depth and promise of Othello's passion,
juxtaposing the potential spirituality of love against the physically
unfulfilled and profane desires of others.
When in Act 1 he boldly announces his retribution and villainy against
Othello, he tells his confederate Roderigo:
when my outward action does demonstrate
an important coda to this pronouncement: "I am not what I am"
(1.1.61-65; see Exodus 3: 14), thereby perverting Yahweh's assertion to Moses as
to whom it was the prophet spoke: "And God answered Moses, I AM THAT I
AM" (Exodus 3:14; Geneva Bible). By
mocking Yahweh's statement, Iago casts Othello into the role of another prophet,
a second Moses who felt inadequate to the task set before him by God because he
was, as the book of Exodus says, "slow of speech, and of a slow
tongue" (4:10). A second
religious allusion suggests Iago's gifts for sullying passion, as Othello,
pushed to his emotional knees by Iago's refusal to say more on Desdemona's
involvement with Cassio, urges him to tell him the painful truth: "if thou
dost love me, / Show me thy thought" (3.3.119-20).
Iago's response, "My lord, you know I love you"
(121)--ironically reminiscent of Peter's avowal to Christ prior to the betrayal
(John 21:15-17)--suggests not sexual ecstasy, but a passion of tears, agony, and
violence. By appropriating two
biblical statements, one from each covenant, Iago thus takes on himself the role
of Alpha and Omega, establishing his authority as the archetypal inverter of
fed Othello's mind with the very evils he says to ignore, Iago prepares the Moor
to accept Desdemona's duplicity as a more sordid aspect of love, one in which
sadism has its place: "She did deceive her father, marrying you; / And when
she seem'd to shake and fear your looks, / She lov'd them most"
(3.3.210-12). Moreover, Iago's
observation gives a perverted credence to Othello's murder of his wife as an act
of ecstatic sacrifice--her trembling and fear before her death unites death and
eros much as Iago suggested:
Des. And yet I fear you, for
you are fatal then,
While Iago's evil schemes have great effect upon Othello, it should be noted, he
is less successful with Desdemona. The
dock scene of Act 2, in which Desdemona, Iago, his wife Emilia, and Cassio await
Othello's ship, portrays a woman who is far more substantive than her father had
suggested by his description of her: "A maiden never bold of spirit, / So
still and quiet, that her motion / Blush'd at her self" (1.3.94-96).
Iago's banter with the group, characteristically suggestive and
offensive, reveals his cruelty and contempt for women--as indicated by his
remark to his wife before the company: "You rise to play, and go to bed to
work" (115). Although
Desdemona fails to show embarrassment at Iago's lewd behavior, her rebuke is
subtle yet pointed: "O most lame and impotent conclusion: do not learn of
him, Emilia, though he be thy husband" (161-62).6
the vulnerability and anxiety suggested in her "willow" song,
Desdemona remains articulate from first to last.
When Othello has degenerated into speechless sadism, striking her
publicly, she responds simply, "I have not deserv'd this" (4.1.236).
Awaiting her groom, she sleeps upon her bridal sheets, an action she
hopes will appeal to Othello's lost affection, resulting in the consummation of
their vows;7 yet Desdemona is unaware of his perverted justification
for her death, which will ironically bring their union full circle:
"strumpet, I come; / Forth of my heart those charms, thine eyes, are
blotted, / Thy bed, lust-stain'd, shall with lust's blood be spotted"
preparation for the moment, Othello's observations above the sleeping body of
his bride indicate the finality of his action--"I know not where is that
Promethean heat / That can thy light relume" (12-13)--as well as his
regrets at not having consummated his marriage: "when I have pluck'd the
rose, / I cannot give it vital growth again, / It must needs wither"
(13-15). Suggestive of the virgin's
deflowering and loss of maidenhead, the rose is a familiar symbol of virginity,
reminiscent of such medieval works as the French Romance of the Rose (ca.
13th century) and Chaucer's translation Romaunt of the Rose (ca. 1370).
Each of Othello's pronouncements, the extinction of Desdemona's life and
the deflowering of her virginity, allude to acts not yet performed, as he steals
himself for the intended murder.
The scene of Desdemona's murder, which Furness, the editor of the Variorum edition of the play (1886), called the "unutterable agony," began with the ambiguity of a passion unexplained: "It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul, / Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars: / It is the cause" (5.2.1-3). Othello fails to provide the referent for the ambiguous "it." Yet he clearly indicates for the audience that, whatever his justification, a bloody, graphic enactment of murder will not take place: "yet I'll not shed her blood, / Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow, / And smooth, as monumental alabaster" (3-5). A similar technique for maintaining decorum within dramatic illusion occurs in Hamlet, when, as he approaches Gertrude's chamber, Hamlet says "let not ever / The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom; / Let me be cruel, not unnatural. / I will speak daggers to her, but use none" (3.2.384-87).
Shakespeare puts his audience at ease with regard to realistic violence
perpetrated against a woman. Thus
Desdemona's death was undoubtedly a stylized depiction of murder; and, more
importantly, the manner of the enactment further suggests the ironic physical
fulfillment of sexual ecstasy, promised in the play for the first four acts but
never realized, not even in the last. Far
from being a violent scene, Desdemona's death horribly mimics the embraces and
union of lovemaking. As she awakens
and pleads for her life--"Kill me to-morrow, let me live to-night...But
half an hour, but while I say one prayer!"--Othello is his most articulate
in the horrible denial: "'Tis too late" (81, 83-84).
Unable to give voice to his own behavior, he quickly prevents Desdemona
from speaking as well. Passion finally takes physical form,8 underscored
by Desdemona's lingering pleas that could easily suggest sexual ecstasy, "O
Lord, Lord, Lord!", as contrasted to the clamoring of Emilia from within:
"My lord, my lord! what, ho, my lord, my lord! (83-84). Their
antiphonal cries seem to juxtapose violence and eroticism, even as they both
respond to Othello's murderous act, which has, of course, substituted for his
consummation and union with his wife.
as the double time scheme of Othello suggests that the feel of events supersedes
actuality, so too Shakespeare indicates that the response to passion is the
tenor of the work, with the play's imagery offering an illicit beauty, as
suggested in lines such as "The bawdy wind, that kisses all it meets"
(4.2.80). Thus Shakespeare frames
his tragedy in two extremes that both repulse and excite: the pornographic image
that Iago uses in Act 1 to enrage a virgin's father--"your daughter, and
the Moor, are now making the beast with two backs" (1.1.115-16)--and the
suggestion in Act 5 of an eternal ménage à trois, with the bodies of
Othello, Desdemona, and her companion Emilia laid upon the bed.
Between these two extremes, Othello progressively loses coherency and
erotic articulation, substituting one form of passion for another as he
degenerates into the chaos he feared.
the play ends, the final emblematic union of those three bodies portrays yet
another imagistic irony: in this orgy of death, Othello has once again failed to
attain that pleasured privacy with his bride. With his final words: "I kiss'd thee ere I kill'd thee,
no way but this, / Killing myself, to die upon a kiss" (359-60), the play
finalizes the unattainable, with Othello falling upon the bed in a statement of
dysfunction, within a tragedy of erotic frustration.
1. "Unproper Beds: Race, Adultery, And The Hideous In Othello (Shakespeare Quarterly 40, Winter 1989: 411.
This association is
reflected in many plays of the period as well as in other treatises: Abraham
Fraunce's Arcadian Rhetoric (1588), Thomas Heywood's An Apology for Actors
(1612), Thomas Wilson's The Passions of the Mind (1604) and The Passions of
the Mind in General (1621), A Refutation of the Apology for Actors, by I. G.
(1615), Richard Edwards' Damon and Pithias (1571; Prologue), Thomas Dekker's
If This Be Not A Good Play, the Devil Is In It (1612; Prologue),
Shakespeare's Titus Andronicus (1590?; see below), Richard III (1591?; 3.5),
Troilus and Cressida (1602; 1.3).
3. See Jane Donawerth, Shakespeare And The Sixteenth-Centruy Study Of Language, U of Illinois P, 1984: 85.
85; and see Thomas Wright's Passions of the Minde, sigs. M7v-M8r.
Karen Newman, "`And wash the Ethiop white': femininity and the
monstrous in Othello," in Shakespeare Reproduced: the text in
history and ideology, Jean E. Howard and Marion F. O'Connor, eds.,
Methuen, 1987:141-62; and Peter Stallybrass, "Patriarchal Territories:
The Body Enclosed," in Othello: Critical Essays, Susan Snyder,
ed., Garland, 1988: 251-74.
The O.E.D. offers George Sandys Travels 7 in 1615 as
the first use of "impotent" as a sexual dysfunction, but that
intimation is very possible here.
Michael Neill points out that it was an aristocratic fashion in the
early seventeenth century to be buried in the sheets from the wedding night
(401; and see Clare Gittings, Death, Burial and the Individual in Early
Modern England, Croom Helm, 1984: 111-12).
Once Othello has announced
his purpose to Desdemona, the anticipation of what soon follows makes the
scene extremely moving, as the audience identifies with the injustice,
attendant emotions of the helpless Desdemona, and ironic fulfillment of its
own voyeuristic expectations. Yet
stylization, that is, the apparently decorous embrace of the pair, replaces
violence; therefore pathos--not fear--is of primary importance.
A performance of Othello by the King's Men at Oxford in 1610
indicates that distinction in a letter commenting on the play by one of its
Desdemona, although greatly successful throughout, moved us especially when at last, lying on her bed, killed by her husband, she implored the pity of the spectators in her death with the face alone. (Quoted and translated by Geoffrey Tillotson in "Othello and The Alchemist at Oxford," TLS 20 July 1933: 494.)
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