Characteristics of Women Part 24

So, I would _you_ did; then 'twere past all doubt You'd call your children your's.

LEONTES.

A callat, Of boundless tongue, who late hath beat her husband, And now baits me!--this brat is none of mine.

PAULINA.

It is yours, And might we lay the old proverb to your charge, So like you, 'tis the worse.

LEONTES.

A gross hag!

And lozel, thou art worthy to be hang'd, That wilt not stay her tongue.

ANTIGONES.

Hang all the husbands That cannot do that feat, you'll leave yourself Hardly one subject.

LEONTES.

Once more, take her hence.

PAULINA.

A most unworthy and unnatural lord Can do no more.

LEONTES.

I'll have thee burn'd.

PAULINA.

I care not: It is an heretic that makes the fire, Not she which burns in't.

Here, while we honor her courage and her affection, we cannot help regretting her violence. We see, too, in Paulina, what we so often see in real life, that it is not those who are most susceptible in their own temper and feelings, who are most delicate and forbearing towards the feelings of others. She does not comprehend, or will not allow for the sensitive weakness of a mind less firmly tempered than her own. There is a reply of Leontes to one of her cutting speeches, which is full of feeling, and a lesson to those, who, with the best intentions in the world, force the painful truth, like a knife, into the already lacerated heart.

PAULINA.

If, one by one, you wedded all the world, Or, from the all that are, took something good To make a perfect woman, she you kill'd Would be unparallel'd.

LEONTES.

I think so. Kill'd!

She I kill'd? I did so: but thou strik'st me Sorely, to say I did; it is as bitter Upon thy tongue, as in my thought. Now, good now, Say so but seldom.

CLEOMENES.

Not at all, good lady: You might have spoken a thousand things that would Have done the time more benefit, and grac'd Your kindness better.

We can only excuse Paulina by recollecting that it is a part of her purpose to keep alive in the heart of Leontes the remembrance of his queen's perfections, and of his own cruel injustice. It is admirable, too, that Hermione and Paulina, while sufficiently approximated to afford all the pleasure of contrast, are never brought too nearly in contact on the scene or in the dialogue;[50] for this would have been a fault in taste, and have necessarily weakened the effect of both characters:--either the serene grandeur of Hermione would have subdued and overawed the fiery spirit of Paulina, or the impetuous temper of the latter must have disturbed in some respect our impression of the calm, majestic, and somewhat melancholy beauty of Hermione.

DESDEMONA.

The character of Hermione is addressed more to the imagination; that of Desdemona to the feelings. All that can render sorrow majestic is gathered round Hermione; all that can render misery heart-breaking is a.s.sembled round Desdemona. The wronged but self-sustained virtue of Hermione commands our veneration; the injured and defenceless innocence of Desdemona so wrings the soul, "that all for pity we could die."

Desdemona, as a character, comes nearest to Miranda, both in herself as a woman, and in the perfect simplicity and unity of the delineation; the figures are differently draped--the proportions are the same. There is the same modesty, tenderness, and grace; the same artless devotion in the affections, the same predisposition to wonder, to pity, to admire; the same almost ethereal refinement and delicacy; but all is pure poetic nature within Miranda and around her: Desdemona is more a.s.sociated with the palpable realities of every-day existence, and we see the forms and habits of society tinting her language and deportment; no two beings can be more alike in character--nor more distinct as individuals.

The love of Desdemona for Oth.e.l.lo appears at first such a violation of all probabilities, that her father at once imputes it to magic, "to spells and mixtures powerful o'er the blood."

She, in spite of nature, Of years, of country, credit, every thing, To fall in love with what she feared to look on!

And the devilish malignity of Iago, whose coa.r.s.e mind cannot conceive an affection founded purely in sentiment, derives from her love itself a strong argument against her.

Ay, there's the point, as to be bold with you, Not to affect any proposed matches Of her own clime, complexion, and degree, Whereto, we see, in all things nature tends,[51] &c.

Notwithstanding this disparity of age, character, country, complexion, we, who are admitted into the secret, see her love rise naturally and necessarily out of the leading propensities of her nature.

At the period of the story a spirit of wild adventure had seized all Europe. The discovery of both Indies was yet recent; over the sh.o.r.es of the western hemisphere still fable and mystery hung, with all their dim enchantments, visionary terrors, and golden promises! perilous expeditions and distant voyages were every day undertaken from hope of plunder, or mere love of enterprise; and from these the adventurers returned with tales of "Antres vast and desarts wild--of cannibals that did each other eat--of Anthropophagi, and men whose heads did grow beneath their shoulders." With just such stories did Raleigh and Clifford, and their followers return from the New World: and thus by their splendid or fearful exaggerations, which the imperfect knowledge of those times could not refute, was the pa.s.sion for the romantic and marvellous nourished at home, particularly among the women. A cavalier of those days had no nearer no surer way to his mistress's heart, than by entertaining her with these wondrous narratives. What was a general feature of his time, Shakspeare seized and adapted to his purpose with the most exquisite felicity of effect. Desdemona, leaving her household cares in haste, to hang breathless on Oth.e.l.lo's tales, was doubtless a picture from the life; and her inexperience and her quick imagination lend it an added propriety: then her compa.s.sionate disposition is interested by all the disastrous chances, hair-breadth 'scapes, and moving accidents by flood and field, of which he has to tell; and her exceeding gentleness and timidity, and her domestic turn of mind, render her more easily captivated by the military renown, the valor, and lofty bearing of the n.o.ble Moor--

And to his honors and his valiant parts Does she her soul and fortunes consecrate.

The confession and the excuse for her love is well placed in the mouth of Desdemona, while the history of the rise of that love, and of his course of wooing, is, with the most graceful propriety, as far as she is concerned, spoken by Oth.e.l.lo, and in her absence. The last two lines summing up the whole--

She loved me for the dangers I had pa.s.sed, And I loved her that she did pity them--

comprise whole volumes of sentiment and metaphysics.

Desdemona displays at times a transient energy, arising from the power of affection, but gentleness gives the prevailing tone to the character--gentleness in its excess--gentleness verging on pa.s.siveness--gentleness, which not only cannot resent,--but cannot resist.

OTh.e.l.lO.

Then of so gentle a condition!

IAGO.

Ay! too gentle.

OTh.e.l.lO.

Nay, that's certain

Here the exceeding softness of Desdemona's temper is turned against her by Iago, so that it suddenly strikes Oth.e.l.lo in a new point of view, as the inability to resist temptation; but to us who perceive the character as a whole, this extreme gentleness of nature is yet delineated with such exceeding refinement, that the effect never approaches to feebleness. It is true that _once_ her extreme timidity leads her in a moment of confusion and terror to prevaricate about the fatal handkerchief. This handkerchief, in the original story of Cinthio, is merely one of those embroidered handkerchiefs which were as fas.h.i.+onable in Shakspeare's time as in our own; but the minute description of it as "lavorato alla morisco sottilissimamente,"[52] suggested to the poetical fancy of Shakspeare one of the most exquisite and characteristic pa.s.sages in the whole play. Oth.e.l.lo makes poor Desdemona believe that the handkerchief was a talisman.

There's magic in the web of it.

A sibyl, that had numbered in the world The sun to make two hundred compa.s.ses, In her prophetic fury sew'd the work: The worms were hallowed that did breed the silk, And it was dyed in mummy, which the skilful Conserv'd of maidens' hearts.