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I False?
Imogen’s description for what Posthumus had momentarily seemed to be, “a villain” (ln. 48), is an interesting choice of words. She later again speaks of his “villainy” (ln. 56), stating that it is not like skin, but like a garment for Posthumus -- something not a part of him, but that he may put on and put off again. This draws us back to the use of garments and disguise in the play, tying it to trickery, deceit, and foul play by the use of the idea of “bait” (ln. 57). Even as he plays the villain, then, Imogen is not sure she can believe that she is seeing a true image of her husband, though she might for a moment be deceived by the act.
A surface reading of this extract lets us know that Imogen is calling her husband nothing more than a scoundrel when she refers to him as a villain, and certainly that is the meaning we should go with in understanding what Imogen here has to say. But the history of the word’s origin bears an interesting connection with the Posthumus story. The term “villain” comes from the Latin root villanus, which refers to a feudal serf. The term comes to us in English via Middle English and Middle French, where the idea of serfdom begins to be conflated with a “person of coarse feelings” (American Heritage Dictionary) or a “base or low-born rustic” (Online Etymology Dictionary). Considering that the first words Cymbeline speaks in the play are “Thou basest thing,” aimed at Posthumus (1.1.127), it seems that there is a connection here. When, added to this, we consider the importance of Posthumus’s parentage and birth, and the fact that he later disguises himself as a peasant, we begin to see a thread emerging in relation to the connection of “villainy” with being low-born or base. In a more literary sense, it is Cloten who proves to be a villain (i.e., a character who seeks to do ill to the protagonist), though he is anything but low-born. Posthumus, however, is the character that draws the various possible meanings of “villain” together for us, and it is in Imogen’s language where these possibilities emerge.
On the other hand, Imogen compares herself to a garment, putting that well-used metaphor here to exquisite use (ln. 51-53). She recognizes that she’s no ordinary garment, not something some base low-born fellow might wear, though she admits she is one now “stale” and “out of fashion” (ln. 51). However, it is not enough that she just be thrown out, she must be ripped up, like cloth so fine that is better recycled and reused than simply tossed aside. The irony of the terms she uses to describe herself and that she uses to refer to her husband draws attention, once again, to the social disparity between them, albeit in a rather subtle and round-about way.
Throughout Imogen’s speech in this extract, Pisanio punctuates her laments with short, but rather ineffective interjections. From this pairing of characters, besides showing Pisanio as distraught at his master’s command to kill Imogen, we have staged together here the only two true, faithful characters in this thread of the story (with Belarius and the boys mirroring their fidelity in the interwoven plot). The next time we see Posthumus onstage after this, he is cursing Pisanio for fulfilling the command he had been given (i.e., cursing him for faithful obedience), commenting that a faithful servant does not follow all commands, but only those which are “just ones” (5.1.1-7). It seems to be the fate of Posthumus to be surrounded by those who offer him love and fidelity, only to be cursed by him for it.
In the person of Imogen, Cymbeline offers us one of the most compelling female characters in all of Shakespeare’s plays. This particular extract reveals to us much about her that is admirable, but simultaneously a bit troubling. She is so willing to die at the command of her husband, despite the fact that she is proving her faithfulness to him over and over again while he is so easily swayed from faith in her. The comic ending, thankfully, ensures us throughout that all will turn out fine for Imogen and the rest at the end, but not before going into some very dark regions before the “happy ending” is granted. This extract is one of the spots where the darkness is entered and explored.
Articles in this series: [1] [2] [3] [4]
©2007 Shelly Bryant
Citations from the play are based on David Bevington’s anthology
Bevington, David. Shakespeare: The Late Romances. Toronto: Bantam Books, 1980.
Saturday, 29 September 2007
In Shakespeare’s Cymbeline, the question of true and false friends is central to each of the various plot lines that we see at work in the text. Will Britain be true to its duties to Rome? Is Belarius a true servant to his king? Is Iachimo truthful or a liar? Can Posthumus and Imogen be true to one another even in the face of her father’s opposition? Or will Imogen be true to her filial duty? Questions about fidelity in each of these relationships are constantly circling about in the play. Imogen proves, ultimately, to be the most true and faithful of all of the characters (and thus is aptly called, for much of the play, Fidele).
In Act 3, Scene 4 we have a moving depiction of Imogen’s reaction to her husband’s orders that she is to be killed. Her hopes and her trust in Posthumus are shattered, and she gives us a somewhat troubling look at the lengths to which she will go to keep good faith with her husband, despite his unfaithfulness. She will be true to her vows of “obedience” (ln. 66), even to the point of dying if it is his wish.
Imogen’s language in lines 40-73 express not only her distraught situation, but the depth of her loyalty to her untrusting husband. She carries on several of the key metaphors that are used throughout the play, including both the metaphors of garments (ln. 51-53) and the story of the Trojan Horse (ln. 58-61). This fits nicely with her relationships to the men who have so far wronged her. Iachimo uses a Trojan Horse trick to gain entrance into Imogen’s chamber (note her servant’s name in that scene), and the garment metaphor slips in and out of the speeches exchanged between Imogen, Cloten, Posthumus, and Pisanio throughout the play.
The word most often repeated in Imogen’s speech in these lines is the word “false,” echoing the wrong her husband accuses her of. She repeats this word six times (ln. 40, 44, 46, 59,63), pairing it with terms such as “incontinency” (ln. 46), “traitors” (ln. 54), “revolt” (ln. 55), “scandal” (ln. 60), and “perjured” (ln. 63). As a contrast, she uses the words “true” (ln. 58, 61), “honest” (ln. 58, 64), “goodly” (ln. 63), and “gallant” (ln. 63). This sort of binary seems to be the tension around which Imogen’s speech moves at this point in the play.
The idea of one who is “false” draws attention to a lack of faithfulness or loyalty, and to treacherous and deceitful intent (American Heritage Dictionary). At the same time, it carries the connotation of something based on erroneous or mistaken information (American Heritage Dictionary). Immediately following this scene, Imogen neatly packages her rejection of this label in one sense while assuming it in another -- as she dons her disguise, creating an erroneous impression, she wears the name Fidele, proclaiming through that her fidelity and loyalty.
The various false impressions created throughout Cymbeline are the impetus for much of the action. The trick Iachimo cruelly plays on Posthumus and Imogen, the fake poison (and fake death that results from it), and the many disguises worn throughout the play are all various uses of deceit and falsehood. It is interesting to observe that not all of the deceitful acts are done with treacherous intent, though. As a counter to Iachimo’s lies, ultimately resulting in Imogen’s removal from her home and family, we have Belarius’ kidnapping of and lying to Cymbeline’s sons, which finally results in them taking their rightful place as princes of Britain.
Contrasting with Cloten’s violent intentions in wearing the clothes of Posthumus, we have Pisanio’s life-saving plan to hide the identity of Imogen through the use of a disguise. The idea of what is false, what is treacherous, what is loyal, and what is true is rather a confused issue throughout the play. The centrality of the notion of falsity in Imogen’s speech when she learns of her husband’s plan to have her murdered reflects its central place in the body of the entire play.
Imogen mourns the false witness that Iachimo has born her, both in speaking to her about her husband (ln.46-48) and in speaking to Posthumus about her (ln. 49). She is well aware, by this time, of the harm that is sure to come by false testimony, admitting that Iachimo’s lies made her husband “then lookedst like a villain” (ln. 48). Unreliable witnesses, like clever disguises, can easily deceive, making one seem to be what one is not. And so she begs Pisanio to play the role of a true witness, giving honest testimony to her absolute obedience (and faithfulness?) to her husband (ln. 65-66).
