Aemilia. How goes it now? HE LOOKS GENTLER THAN HE DID.
Shakespeare has here put into half a line what some authors would
have spun out into ten set speeches.
The character of Desdemona herself is inimitable both in itself, and
as it contrasts with Othello's groundless jealousy, and with the
foul conspiracy of which she is the innocent victim. Her beauty and
external graces are only indirectly glanced at; we see 'her visage
in her mind'; her character everywhere predominates over her person:
A maiden never bold:
Of spirit so still and quiet, that her motion
Blushed at itself.
There is one fine compliment paid to her by Cassio, who exclaims
triumphantly when she comes ashore at Cyprus after the storm:
Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling winds,
As having sense of beauty, do omit
Their mortal natures, letting safe go by
The divine Desdemona.
In general, as is the case with most of Shakespeare's females, we
lose sight of her personal charms in her attachment and devotedness
to her husband. 'She is subdued even to the very quality of her
lord'; and to Othello's 'honours and his valiant parts her soul and
fortunes consecrates'. The lady protests so much herself, and she is
as good as her word. The truth of conception, with which timidity
and boldness are united in the same character, is marvellous. The
extravagance of her resolutions, the pertinacity of her affections,
may be said to arise out of the gentleness of her nature. They imply
an unreserved reliance on the purity of her own intentions, an
entire surrender of her fears to her love, a knitting of herself
(heart and soul) to the fate of another. Bating the commencement of
her passion, which is a little fantastical and headstrong (though
even that may perhaps be consistently accounted for from her
inability to resist a rising inclination [Footnote: Iago. Ay, too
gentle. Othello. Nay, that's certain.]) her whole character consists
in having no will of her own, no prompter but her obedience. Her
romantic turn is only a consequence of the domestic and practical
part of her disposition; and instead of following Othello to the
wars, she would gladly have 'remained at home a moth of peace', if
her husband could have stayed with her. Her resignation and angelic
sweetness of temper do not desert her at the last. The scenes in
which she laments and tries to account for Othello's estrangement
from her are exquisitely beautiful. After he has struck her, and
called her names, she says:
--Alas, Iago,
What shall I do to win my lord again?
Good friend, go to him; for by this light of heaven,
I know not how I lost him. Here I kneel;
If e'er my will did trespass 'gainst his love,
Either in discourse, or thought, or actual deed,
Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense
Delighted them on any other form-
Or that I do not, and ever did
And ever will, though he do shake me off
To beggarly divorcement, love him dearly,
Comfort forswear me. Unkindness may do much,
And his unkindness may defeat my life,
But never taint my love.
Iago. I pray you be content:'tis but his humour.
The business of the state does him offence.