What’s in a Name: The Divine Power of Words in Much Ado About Nothing, Cymbeline, and The Winter’s Tale
“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. . . All things were made through Him, and without Him nothing was made that was made.”
John 1:1, 3
The Christian story of Creation is a poem with an important reoccurring refrain: “And God said.” The creative power of divine speech is woven throughout Genesis and the thread is picked up again by St. John the Evangelist in his Gospel. He refers to Jesus Christ as ‘The Word’ which made the world. This tradition of language as power is one that Shakespeare would have been very familiar with and the power of human language to create images and influence reality is a destructive force in Much Ado About Nothing, Cymbeline, and The Winter’s Tale. In each play, a husband, or in Claudio’s case, a husband-figure, verbally accuses his wife of infidelity and death is considered the appropriate consequence. In all three cases, a feigned death is necessary for each man to recognize the power of his words and cause him to mourn his wife’s death; this allows him to hear what he could not hear before—the truth. The women’s fake sin is expunged by a fake death and each man publicly repents of his mistaken accusation. Repentance is the surrender of man to a reality not of his own making. Within the Christian schema, grace is the result of repentance and the ultimate expression of grace was Christ’s resurrection. Just as man imitates divine creation with his words, resurrection is imitated in the plays; the women are revealed as living and are reconciled with their husbands and the society.
In a world without DNA testing and Sherlock Holmes, an accusation of infidelity boiled down to a battle of wills and words. When Leontes accuses Hermione, he has on his side the coincidence that Polyxenes has been in town exactly nine months, and Hermione is in her third trimester of pregnancy. Then, because he asked Camillo to poison Polyxenes, Camillo and Polyxenes flee to Bohemia, which looks suspicious. As Hermione admits at her trial, the battle is between her word and Leontes’ word, and his very accusation has called her truthfulness into question: “Since what I am to say, must be but that which contradicts my accusation, and the testimony on my part, no other but what comes from myself, it shall scare boot me to say ‘not guilty’: mine integrity, being counted falsehood, shall, as I express it, be so receiv’d.” In Much Ado About Nothing, it is Don John’s and Claudio’s sincerity that convinces Leonato of their truthfulness. He says, “Would the two princes lie, and Claudio lie, who lov’d her so, that, speaking of her foulness, wash’d it with tears?” In Cymbeline, Posthumous believes Iachimo when Iachimo says that he slept with Imogen; Posthumous, to his credit, requires ‘proof’ and when Iachimo produces Imogen’s engagement bracelet, Posthumous accepts Iachimo’s word against Imogen’s honor. Even when Philario offers the reasonable suggestion that Iachimo stole the bracelet, Iachimo says, “By Jupiter, I had it from her arm,” and that is enough to convince Posthumous: “Hark you, he swears: by Jupiter he swears. ‘Tis true. . . .” Words are enough to incite jealousy, and words are enough to defame the women they attack.
In each case, death seems to be the expected, if not necessary, consequence of infidelity. This reflects the law of the Old Testament; Leviticus 20:10 states clearly that in case of adultery, both of the perpetrators should be put to death. Whether or not adultery was a capital offence in Elizabethan England, death seems an appropriate punishment for the crime within the plays. Posthumous tells Pisanio to murder Imogen in his letter of accusation, Leontes condemns Hermione to death in court, and Leonato says that if Hero does not die of shame herself, his own hands will strike at her life.
Because each man is convinced of the truth of his words, he is unable to hear others contradict him until he sees his words become truth; in each play, a death is desired, and in each play, a death is given. The Friar, who suggests that Hero be publicly mourned as dead, lists five goods he hopes will come of his charade: slander will be changed to remorse; Hero will be lamented, pitied, and excused; Claudio’s loss will cause him to remember Hero’s worth and goodness; Claudio will mourn and repent of his accusation, even if he still believes he was right; and her death with quell the wonder of her infamy in others. These are the things which result, not only in Much Ado, but also in Cymbeline. After Posthumous receives Pisanio’s “bloody sign” signifying Imogen’s death, he grieves and mentally reprimands Pisanio for not disobeying him. It is clear from his soliloquy that he still believes her to be an adulteress, but his own sins were more worthy of judgment than her “little faults.” The Winter’s Tale is unique, in that two deaths are necessary to disillusion Leontes. Leontes is given an oracle which proclaims Hermione chaste and Leontes a tyrant, but Leontes is so entirely convinced of the reality of his own words that he even rejects the words of the gods as false. The instant after he calls the oracle a “falsehood,” a servant enters to tell him that his son, Mamillius is dead. It is at this moment that Leontes recognizes the power of the gods; he had the legal power to execute Hermione, but the gods have divine power over life and death. By admitting he is unjust, Leontes admits that a contest between mortal and immortal wills is futile and he submits himself to a reality not of his own making. The death of Hermione is simply a nail in the coffin of Leontes’ pride; his power is broken and Paulina says that he can do nothing but despair.
The feigned deaths, therefore, allow the men to see the full power of their words, but simultaneously protects them from themselves. These plays perfectly illustrate the grace of human impotence. Because men are not gods – because they are not omniscient and good – the true divine power of creation is mercifully denied to them. Shakespeare brilliantly balances the tension between the actual and symbolic power of words by limiting the affect of words to creating an “almost” reality. Although the men wished their wives dead, they could not have born the weight of the fulfillment of their wishes. They are spared the consequences of causing such an irreparable thing as death.
The other grace extended to them is the ‘resurrection’ of their wives, but this may take place only after a public confession and a period of penitence. Polyxenes fights for Britain, whose mistress he ‘killed’; he runs around the battlefield looking for death, which will allow him to forget his sorrow and exculpate his guilt. He confesses before Cymbeline and Imogen, who is disguised, that he killed Imogen, whom he now acknowledges innocent. She reveals herself and they are happily reconciled to one another and the king. In Much Ado, Claudio, after hearing Borachio’s confession of deception, admits his fault and submits himself to Leonato, who makes him publicly proclaim Hero’s innocence, publicly mourn at Hero’s tomb, and marry Hero’s “cousin.” At the wedding, Hero is revealed as alive, and they are happily married. Lastly, in The Winter’s Tale, Leontes does sixteen years of penance, and it is only when the oracle is fulfilled – Perdita is found – that Hermione is resurrected. Because each man verbally maligned their wives, they must verbally reestablish their wives’ reputations; the one who creates a false image must be the one who destroys it. The ‘moral’, if there is one, is that man must take ownership of his words. If we have been granted the power of language, we must learn to use it responsibly. The resurrections are the miraculous counterpoint to the earlier destruction; they demonstrate that man can use his creative power for good.
With power comes responsibility and language is a power frequently associated with the divine. I believe that Shakespeare, as a man of words, understood that by writing a play, he was “sub-creating.” The references to the world as a stage in As You Like It, and Hamlet’s use of the play to ‘midwive’ reality, support this suggestion. If one accepts that words have the power to craft reality in some admittedly-mysterious way, the implications are wide-reaching. Artists are no longer men; they are God-imitators, and have the weight of responsibility thrust upon them, whether they desire it or no. Public speakers, like politicians, are vision-casters; historians do not simply recite the past, they form the way it will be seen by the future. What is in a name? The creative force of the cosmos.
John 1:1, 3
The Christian story of Creation is a poem with an important reoccurring refrain: “And God said.” The creative power of divine speech is woven throughout Genesis and the thread is picked up again by St. John the Evangelist in his Gospel. He refers to Jesus Christ as ‘The Word’ which made the world. This tradition of language as power is one that Shakespeare would have been very familiar with and the power of human language to create images and influence reality is a destructive force in Much Ado About Nothing, Cymbeline, and The Winter’s Tale. In each play, a husband, or in Claudio’s case, a husband-figure, verbally accuses his wife of infidelity and death is considered the appropriate consequence. In all three cases, a feigned death is necessary for each man to recognize the power of his words and cause him to mourn his wife’s death; this allows him to hear what he could not hear before—the truth. The women’s fake sin is expunged by a fake death and each man publicly repents of his mistaken accusation. Repentance is the surrender of man to a reality not of his own making. Within the Christian schema, grace is the result of repentance and the ultimate expression of grace was Christ’s resurrection. Just as man imitates divine creation with his words, resurrection is imitated in the plays; the women are revealed as living and are reconciled with their husbands and the society.
In a world without DNA testing and Sherlock Holmes, an accusation of infidelity boiled down to a battle of wills and words. When Leontes accuses Hermione, he has on his side the coincidence that Polyxenes has been in town exactly nine months, and Hermione is in her third trimester of pregnancy. Then, because he asked Camillo to poison Polyxenes, Camillo and Polyxenes flee to Bohemia, which looks suspicious. As Hermione admits at her trial, the battle is between her word and Leontes’ word, and his very accusation has called her truthfulness into question: “Since what I am to say, must be but that which contradicts my accusation, and the testimony on my part, no other but what comes from myself, it shall scare boot me to say ‘not guilty’: mine integrity, being counted falsehood, shall, as I express it, be so receiv’d.” In Much Ado About Nothing, it is Don John’s and Claudio’s sincerity that convinces Leonato of their truthfulness. He says, “Would the two princes lie, and Claudio lie, who lov’d her so, that, speaking of her foulness, wash’d it with tears?” In Cymbeline, Posthumous believes Iachimo when Iachimo says that he slept with Imogen; Posthumous, to his credit, requires ‘proof’ and when Iachimo produces Imogen’s engagement bracelet, Posthumous accepts Iachimo’s word against Imogen’s honor. Even when Philario offers the reasonable suggestion that Iachimo stole the bracelet, Iachimo says, “By Jupiter, I had it from her arm,” and that is enough to convince Posthumous: “Hark you, he swears: by Jupiter he swears. ‘Tis true. . . .” Words are enough to incite jealousy, and words are enough to defame the women they attack.
In each case, death seems to be the expected, if not necessary, consequence of infidelity. This reflects the law of the Old Testament; Leviticus 20:10 states clearly that in case of adultery, both of the perpetrators should be put to death. Whether or not adultery was a capital offence in Elizabethan England, death seems an appropriate punishment for the crime within the plays. Posthumous tells Pisanio to murder Imogen in his letter of accusation, Leontes condemns Hermione to death in court, and Leonato says that if Hero does not die of shame herself, his own hands will strike at her life.
Because each man is convinced of the truth of his words, he is unable to hear others contradict him until he sees his words become truth; in each play, a death is desired, and in each play, a death is given. The Friar, who suggests that Hero be publicly mourned as dead, lists five goods he hopes will come of his charade: slander will be changed to remorse; Hero will be lamented, pitied, and excused; Claudio’s loss will cause him to remember Hero’s worth and goodness; Claudio will mourn and repent of his accusation, even if he still believes he was right; and her death with quell the wonder of her infamy in others. These are the things which result, not only in Much Ado, but also in Cymbeline. After Posthumous receives Pisanio’s “bloody sign” signifying Imogen’s death, he grieves and mentally reprimands Pisanio for not disobeying him. It is clear from his soliloquy that he still believes her to be an adulteress, but his own sins were more worthy of judgment than her “little faults.” The Winter’s Tale is unique, in that two deaths are necessary to disillusion Leontes. Leontes is given an oracle which proclaims Hermione chaste and Leontes a tyrant, but Leontes is so entirely convinced of the reality of his own words that he even rejects the words of the gods as false. The instant after he calls the oracle a “falsehood,” a servant enters to tell him that his son, Mamillius is dead. It is at this moment that Leontes recognizes the power of the gods; he had the legal power to execute Hermione, but the gods have divine power over life and death. By admitting he is unjust, Leontes admits that a contest between mortal and immortal wills is futile and he submits himself to a reality not of his own making. The death of Hermione is simply a nail in the coffin of Leontes’ pride; his power is broken and Paulina says that he can do nothing but despair.
The feigned deaths, therefore, allow the men to see the full power of their words, but simultaneously protects them from themselves. These plays perfectly illustrate the grace of human impotence. Because men are not gods – because they are not omniscient and good – the true divine power of creation is mercifully denied to them. Shakespeare brilliantly balances the tension between the actual and symbolic power of words by limiting the affect of words to creating an “almost” reality. Although the men wished their wives dead, they could not have born the weight of the fulfillment of their wishes. They are spared the consequences of causing such an irreparable thing as death.
The other grace extended to them is the ‘resurrection’ of their wives, but this may take place only after a public confession and a period of penitence. Polyxenes fights for Britain, whose mistress he ‘killed’; he runs around the battlefield looking for death, which will allow him to forget his sorrow and exculpate his guilt. He confesses before Cymbeline and Imogen, who is disguised, that he killed Imogen, whom he now acknowledges innocent. She reveals herself and they are happily reconciled to one another and the king. In Much Ado, Claudio, after hearing Borachio’s confession of deception, admits his fault and submits himself to Leonato, who makes him publicly proclaim Hero’s innocence, publicly mourn at Hero’s tomb, and marry Hero’s “cousin.” At the wedding, Hero is revealed as alive, and they are happily married. Lastly, in The Winter’s Tale, Leontes does sixteen years of penance, and it is only when the oracle is fulfilled – Perdita is found – that Hermione is resurrected. Because each man verbally maligned their wives, they must verbally reestablish their wives’ reputations; the one who creates a false image must be the one who destroys it. The ‘moral’, if there is one, is that man must take ownership of his words. If we have been granted the power of language, we must learn to use it responsibly. The resurrections are the miraculous counterpoint to the earlier destruction; they demonstrate that man can use his creative power for good.
With power comes responsibility and language is a power frequently associated with the divine. I believe that Shakespeare, as a man of words, understood that by writing a play, he was “sub-creating.” The references to the world as a stage in As You Like It, and Hamlet’s use of the play to ‘midwive’ reality, support this suggestion. If one accepts that words have the power to craft reality in some admittedly-mysterious way, the implications are wide-reaching. Artists are no longer men; they are God-imitators, and have the weight of responsibility thrust upon them, whether they desire it or no. Public speakers, like politicians, are vision-casters; historians do not simply recite the past, they form the way it will be seen by the future. What is in a name? The creative force of the cosmos.
posted by Generic Muse at 6:00 PM
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