From:     Arnie Perlstein <arnieperlstein@gmail.com>

Date:      May 2 at 7:03 PM EDT

Subject:  Redux: Questions about Cassio

Two years ago, I started a thread in SHAKSPER, “Questions About Cassio,” which ended with the following: https://shaksper.net/archive/2024/912-april/35010-re-questions-about-cassio-7

Today I revisit two related parts of that thread, which I now claim to understand better, and which synergize with each other.

Shakespeare’s Inspiration for the Name “Cassio”:

I originally suggested that it was no coincidence that (a) the name Cassio is almost the same as Cassius, (b) Cassius in Julius Caesar was a “toged consul” (Iago’s dismissal of Cassio as an undeserving lightweight); and (c) the homophonic word “cause” is a thematic keyword primarily associated with Othello’s motivation for killing Desdemona.

Steve Sohmer responded: “…. Shakespeare did not make up Cassio’s name “from scratch.” He derived it from Cassia, an ingredient in anointing oil in Exodus 30:22–25 and in Psalms 45:7–9 (which might explain why the Veronese [he’s not Florentine] Cassio carries in on a wood frame and is promoted chief of the island) ….”

I responded to Steve: “…I would still maintain that Shakespeare’s own, earlier, stabbing, ambitious “Cassius” is a much more probable source for stabbing, ambitious Cassio than the oil in Exodus and Psalms ….”

Today I realized that the naming of Cassio was not an “either/or” but a “both/and” situation. In other words, I had missed a key aspect of Steve’s interpretation, which raises his “Cassia” interpretation to a level of at least equal plausibility and significance, alongside my “Cassius” claim.

To wit, the relevant text of Psalms 45 cited by Steve praises a newly crowned king using a metaphor of fragrant, gladness-inducing anointment:

7: Thou lovest righteousness, and hatest wickedness, because God, even thy God, hath anointed thee with the oil of gladness above thy fellows.

8: All thy garments smell of myrrh and aloes, and cassia, when thou comest out of the ivory palaces where they have made thee glad. [my emphasis]

Steve’s essay fleshed out what he saw in this allusion:

[Cassio’s] name identifies Cassio as “the anointed,” “the chosen,” “the elect.” And Cassio’s startling, unprepared exaltation is the apotheosis of the play’s great theme, the triumph of inscrutable election over earthly merit—which Shakespeare articulates with uncharacteristic bluntness, though he wraps the statement in Cassio’s drunken slurring: “God’s above all, and there be souls must be saved, / and there be souls must not be saved” (2.3.98-100).

I now heartily endorse Steve’s sharp insight into this Biblical subtext of Cassio’s shocking ascension to governor of Cyprus, noting, additionally, that the keywords “glad/gladness” and “smell” in Othello subtly also point back to those same words in Psalms 45:7-8.

However, I also take Sohmer’s point one giant step further. Harking back to the claims in my 2024 thread, Cassio can plausibly also, like Iago, be heard to say, “I am not who I am.” In other words, his rise to governor can plausibly be viewed as no accident, but as an outcome he has––also like Iago––carefully planned from the get-go, and then improvised, (unlike Iago) and successfully implemented by the end of the play.

A full and persuasive justification of my admittedly far-outside-the-box claim is far beyond the scope of this post, but I will now present one key element of Cassio’s carefully planned scheme, which points directly, if metaphorically, right back to those same Biblical verses cited by Sohmer.

To wit, I see Cassio as pulling off an off-center, audacious anointment, in which the “oil of gladness” Cassio uses to rise to power is not cassia––nor, indeed, is it myrrh, aloes, or any other ancient, sort of anointing balm––but is, instead, what Othello unwittingly alludes to, when, after Cassio’s drunken brawl with Montano, he says:

Come Desdemona, ‘tis the Soldiers life,

To have their BALMY slumbers wak’d with strife. [my emphasis]

In other words, alcohol is the metaphorical balm or “oil”* that Cassio chooses for his “anointing” as future governor! As in a high-risk, high-reward “queen’s sacrifice” in champion-level chess, Cassio deliberately frames himself as an alcoholic, and gets himself in hot water with Othello, as the first domino in a series of steps that will eventually culminate with Cassio, not Iago, the last, anointed man standing.

*per the OED, the earliest slang usages of “well-oiled” meaning “drunk” were before Shakespeare wrote Othello

Sohmer ended the relevant portion of his essay as follows:

Unconsciously, Desdemona identifies the engine driving her personal tragedy: “In reply to Iago’s question concerning Othello’s rage—“How comes this trick upon him?”—Desdemona replies, “Nay, heaven doth know” (4.2.131). Ironically, it is through Iago’s mouth that Shakespeare articulates the specialness of Cassio, though he wraps the statement in smoldering anger; the speaker (Iago) has no clue how true he speaks when he says of Cassio, “he, sir, had th’election” (1.1.26).

I add as a postscript that Cassio rigged that election, by making it a one-man race!

And now, I will very briefly turn to, and update my position on, another of Cassio’s “dominoes,” which I presented in my 2024 thread.

Cassio’s Coat

In my 2024 posts, I cited Maurice Hunt’s “Cassio’s Coat” from The Upstart Crow, vol. 26 (2006-7): 61-69, as the inspiration for my claim that Cassio deliberately wears the Elizabethan version of “body armor” so that Roderigo’s expected stab will not kill him, and Cassio will then be able to set the stage for his final act of gulling Iago.

However, as with Sohmer’s citation of Psalm 45, I now see, with 20:20 hindsight, that I failed to give due consideration to Hunt’s ingenious theological argument that Shakespeare meant to invoke St. Paul’s Christian armor.

Now, considering together (a) Cassio’s drunken anointment as the newly anointed king of Psalm 45, with (b) Cassio’s Kevlar coat as Christian armor, I see Shakespeare engaged in a surprising adaptation and blending of two elements of Biblical orthodoxy for his subversive dramatic purposes, centered on the deeply mysterious character of Cassio.

Arnie Perlstein

From:     Kenneth Chan <kc231157@gmail.com>

Date:      April 22 at 8:19 PM EDT

Subject: Techniques in Much Ado About Nothing

Shakespeare conveys the meaning in each of his plays by making us live through it. It is an emotional encounter designed to illuminate the meaning within the depths of our inner being. The message of the play is not conveyed intellectually; it is experienced.

To truly imbibe the message of a Shakespearean play, we thus need to feel and breathe the life of the drama as though it were real. We must plunge ourselves fully into the action and live through the performance. It is learning through emotional participation, an encounter that always leaves a deeper impression than mere textbook learning.

Much Ado About Nothing is a good illustration of how Shakespeare conveys the sage message for each of his plays. He consistently uses three techniques for this purpose, and this is true for practically all his plays.

1. Cohesive Unity

The meaning of a Shakespearean play resides in the experience of the entire play as a cohesive whole. While it is well recognized that a good short essay should be unified, Shakespeare extends this principle of unity to the entire play, so much so that there are no extraneous scenes in a Shakespearean play. Each play constitutes a tightly bound unit, carefully crafted to leave its impact as a single compact entity. I call this characteristic quality—found in every Shakespearean play—a “cohesive unity” of meaning, since every part of the play contributes towards the central theme.

2. Thematic Resonance

As each Shakespearean play imparts its message through our emotional experience, the central meaning is repeated many times throughout the play. The dominant themes of the play reverberate through the entire drama, like a long rolling thunder that often builds, from the beginning, to a resounding climax at the end. I call this unique trait of ever-repeating motifs in Shakespeare’s plays “thematic resonance”—a technique of flooding our subconscious with an incessant flow of recurring impressions that convey the deeper meaning to our inner being.

3. Focused Allegorical Scenes

Another vital clue to the meaning of a Shakespearean play resides in scenes that do not directly contribute to the main action. Nonetheless, they are there for a specific reason for they contribute to the play’s central meaning. I call all these apparently extraneous scenes “focused allegorical scenes” because they artistically amplify the main themes of the play using symbolism, analogy or parody. These allegorical scenes can be called “focused” because they all contribute towards advancing the central message.

An excellent example of Shakespeare’s use of these three techniques can be found in Much Ado About Nothing, where the central theme can be summarized by three complementary motifs:

• Our partiality—attraction or aversion—is an arbitrary projection based on imputed qualities not inherent in the object of our feelings.
• Our feelings of liking or hating are often conjured up by a misperception of reality.
• These arbitrary feelings, born of misperception, often create unnecessary strife and turmoil, and hence “much ado about nothing.”

Because the message in the play is relatively uncomplicated, the thematic resonance of its main theme is literally relentless. This thematic resonance is the main method that Shakespeare uses in this play to establish its cohesive unity.

In addition, the scenes involving Dogberry and company function as focused allegorical scenes that amplify the same central message allegorically through analogy and parody. The first focused allegorical scene we encounter in the play, however, is the masked ball, that again builds on the resonating theme. The masked ball symbolizes our usual mundane state, one of floundering around, unaware of the true situation.

The opening dialogues in the masked ball—between Hero and Don Pedro, Margaret and Balthasar, Ursula and Antonio—establish an atmosphere of groping in the dark, as each lady is unsure of the identity of her masked dancing partner. As in the real world, where ignorance prevails, errors begin to emerge.

We witness the first error when Beatrice dances with the masked Benedick, who pretends to be someone else. Beatrice disparages Benedick more severely than she would have intended, had she known the identity of the man she was addressing. It is an error born of ignorance, an unfortunate state often found in the real world.

The next error from the masked ball is a variation of similar groping in the dark. Claudio traps himself by believing that Don John—who knows his real identity—has mistaken him for Benedick. Under the pretext of advising the supposed “Benedick” to dissuade Don Pedro from pursuing Hero, Don John works his mischief.

Don John: Signor, you are very near my brother in his love. He is enamored on Hero. I pray you, dissuade him from her. She is no equal for his birth. You may do the part of an honest man in it.

Don John poisons Claudio’s mind with jealous resentment by suggesting that his brother, Don Pedro, will be courting Hero for himself instead of doing it on behalf of Claudio. This misperception is, however, soon corrected with no lasting effect, making this episode inconsequential and almost redundant to the play … except that it does serve one real purpose. It is part of the thematic resonance on how our feelings may be conjured up by false perception.

Some of Shakespeare’s plays have an abundance of these apparently extraneous episodes, only they are not extraneous. They have definite purpose and are either part of the thematic resonance or serve as focused allegorical scenes, depicting symbolically the very theme the recurring motifs present.

This is the mystical art of Shakespeare in its element. We are immersed in the message reverberating without respite. The recurring leitmotifs play on our hidden depths, like music with an ever-resounding echo, weaving through our train of thoughts in a lyrical dance that pulls the strings of the subconscious. This is why Shakespeare’s plays have such a mesmerizing effect on so many. They touch something archetypal and deep inside.

If Shakespeare’s intended meaning is understood consciously, the effect may even be enhanced, for the ever-resonating motifs, surging and receding repeatedly, may grip the consciousness in a way that guides towards a thematic stirring within.

Kenneth Chan