Nikki Lask-Aitken

14

Lask-Aitken

Nikki Lask-Aitken

English 378

Dr. Strickland

7 August 2002

Dualities and Meaning: Is Portia Just a Racist?

Throughout the centuries since it’s first performance, Shakespeare’s play, The Merchant of Venice, has been at the heart of many issues and conflicts surrounding both content and performance. Is the play fit for modern audiences? In light of what history has produced and taught us, is it still a valuable play? One of the more conflicted issues contained within the play is the idea of racism – specifically, Portia’s racist attitude concerning her feelings and rejection of her colored suitor Morocco. While many, if not all nations have faced equal rights issues in the past, most still seem to find the subject of race relations to be something too touchy to be adequately PC about.

The question seems to be, should Shakespeare simply be taken much as we take antiquated movies and books of more racist times? Shouldn’t we simply enjoy the work for what it is and acknowledge that the actions and views of the society may not be what we would personally approve of, but that they were? I would like to suggest that there is yet another way to view this issue. Shakespeare may have been a racist (as some scholars seem to insinuate or even loudly proclaim), but I find it difficult to believe that a playwright as sophisticated and witty as he would stoop to a singular definition or meaning in any situation as charged as this one. Shakespeare would not simply define Portia as a racist – there must be a dual meaning; in fact, this dual meaning is not only supported by the text, but also by the etymology of the word “complexion” as well.

In order to fully understand and appreciate the depth and value of this argument, it is important to have some sense of the origin of the word and the meanings which it has undertaken in the past centuries. “Complexion” seems to derive from Latin roots. There are two roots which seem to be the basis for the word we now know; “com” which means “together” and “plecto” which has a meaning of either “braid” or “weave” (Funk 82). The Latin word, “complectere” seems to be the influence to the definition of the word. “Complectere” literally means “to plait together,” which makes logical sense with the earlier roots (Hilliam 26).

With the basic understanding of the Latin roots and meanings, we are now able to explore the etymology of the word and its gradual evolution from a descriptive term to a more derogatory one. David Hilliam provides us with a clear and concise analysis of the history of the word.

Nowadays we use this word to mean the general appearance and state of the skin, especially that of the face. In the Middle Ages, however, the word had a strangely different meaning. Doctors thought that in your body there was a mixture of humours and that your characters was determined by the proportions in which these were present inside you. Your complexion was your own particular intermixture of humours.

The color of a person’s face was an important clue to his complexion or temperament, so the meaning of complexion gradually changed from the mixture within the body to the outward appearance of the skin. (Hilliam 26)

Through this analysis, we are clearly able to differentiate between the older meanings of the word (mixture of humours; outward show of temperament) to a more current meaning that generally points toward a tendency to characterize people by the color of their skin.

Aristotle was the first one to actually set out this idea of “humours” and what they entailed. According to him, there were four humours: fire, air, earth, and water – all of which were contained and maintained within different proportions within a person’s body. Different combinations would produce different characterizations and different temperaments. According to Aristotle, the way these elements combined constructed the complexion of a person. In keeping with the idea of elements and humours, it was believed that the outward appearance of the skin would lead to some idea of what the inner disposition was like (Funk 82-83).

To clearly distinguish between the older definition of the word and the more current usage of it, I found it useful to turn to the Oxford English Dictionary and the Oxford American Dictionary of Current English. According to the OED, the first definition of the word reads, “In the physiology and natural philosophy of the Middle Ages: The combination of supposed qualities (cold or hot, and moist or dry) in a certain proportion, determining the nature of a body, plant, etc.; the combination of the four ‘humours’ of the body in a certain proportion, or the bodily habit attributed to such combination; ‘temperament.’” In fact, it is only when we reach the fourth definition in the list that we find any mention of skin color. This definition reads, “The natural color, texture, and appearance of the skin, esp. of the face; orig. as showing the ‘temperament’ or bodily constitution.” It is during this definition that the OED presents us with an example from Morocco in The Merchant of Venice: “Mislike me not for my complexion. The shadowed livery of the burnisht sun” (Merchant II.i).

Contrarily, according to the Oxford American Dictionary of Current English, “complexion” now has a meaning of: “The natural color, texture, and appearance of the skin, especially the face. An aspect, character.” Apparently, we have grown too sophisticated for the old views of humours and such – now we can judge people merely by their skin color and not worry about what might be on the inside. In fact, according to most of the history of racism and ethnic discrimination, the majority of pejorative terms and derogatory remarks did not come into common usage or gain specific meaning until the Eighteenth Century (Allen 46). If this is the case, then it certainly stands to reason that if “complexion” was used as a racially degrading term during Shakespeare’s time, it was certainly not the norm.

One final source which allows me to conclude beyond a shadow of a doubt that the definition of “complexion” is not the same as we would think today comes from The Shakespeare Lexicon. In this source, “complexion” is defined as, “constitution; natural disposition, ‘nature’ (the complexion varying according to the disposition – whether sanguine, melancholy, etc.)” (Edwardes 55).

Having now determined that the actual definition of the word has undergone a gradual, yet significant change in the past few centuries, we can now return to the text of The Merchant of Venice and look more closely at the scene between Portia and Morocco to determine if double meanings are appropriate in this case.

In Act II, Portia and Morocco are set up for the task of choosing the casket that would lead to either the marriage of the two or the subsequent permanent parting of the two. While some of the language has been argued as “racist” and “biased,” it seems even more plausible that Portia is not so concerned with Morocco’s skin color as she is with his demeanor and attitude.

I, for one, find it difficult to reconcile this superficially concerned Portia, with the same Portia we meet at the end of the play who is so determined to find mercy and justice in Shylock. Is this Portia, who can so easily dismiss a man by the color of his skin, the same woman who loves her husband so dearly and aids him in whatever way she can even after he gives away her ring – the one symbol of their love she made him promise to keep? I cannot bring these two images together into one character; neither can I reconcile that Shakespeare, the master of language and inventor of so many new words and phrases, would leave such an interestingly complex situation with only the surface meaning to be revealed. Shakespeare was the master of the double entendre as well as double plots – why couldn’t he have also constructed a double meaning for this scene? Rather than a racially concerned Portia, it seems more accurate to consider Portia as a deeply educated and intelligent woman who sees more than the outer complexion of the man – she sees the inner temperament and ideals as well. Some scholars apparently seem to agree with this reading. After all, as one so aptly puts it:

As to Portia’s racism, I think it goes far beyond the slur on Morocco’s tone, he, cast,

golden complexion. Portia trots out all the latest Elizabethan bigotry in describing all of her suitors. (Stetner 1999)

However, one of the more important aspects of the character of Portia to keep in mind when analyzing this text is that Portia is obviously an educated and very well learned woman – particularly for the time. If she is as intelligent as she proves to be in Act IV, it stands to reason that she would be the type of character who would enjoy the intellectual challenge of wordplay and the double entendre. Another striking aspect of the character of Portia is her learned status among the society – especially for a woman of that time period. Scholars have used this store of knowledge to acknowledge that she may have deeper reasons and meanings in what she does.

Women possessed of traditionally male learning – women who are not just witty, but are specifically practiced intellectually, and (it turns out) able to make use of precise specialist knowledge in traditionally “male” fields – figure prominently in the plots of two well-known Shakespeare plays: The Merchant of Venice and All’s Well That Ends Well. The specifically learned women in history (whose real technical skill is viewed with incredulity) becomes the generally educated woman (trained as a gentlewoman), later to become the borrower/appropriator of male knowledge, whose mastery is only temporary.” (Jardine 5)

Portia is not ‘unschool’d,’ ‘unlesson’d’ (the plot hinges on her learning); she does not commit her gentle spirit to Bassanio’s direction (she continues to act with authority, and without his knowledge or permission); and as her accounting imagery reminds us, she retains full control of her financial affairs (even the servants continue to answer to her). (Jardine 17)

Portia is either a learned woman with a vision and scope deeper than most of the time, or the most bigoted and hypocritical woman of the time. Which argument seems to fit better with the Portia of Act IV?

At this point in time, it may seem prudent to ask why I am so concerned with Portia’s actions in Act IV when all of this takes place in a very isolated incident in Act II. The reason this concerns me so is that without reconciling this character to a particular mindset or way of thinking it would be impossible to establish a sense of congruity and coherence between the woman in Act II and the woman in Act IV. We have seen no remarkable change of heart or sudden learning – rather we see a woman who is constantly considering those around her and pondering the ways of the world. If we choose to reconcile these two characters together as one woman, we have no choice other than to acknowledge that she is not simply a “racist.” I found this argument toward congruence best expressed in reference to the last scene of the play and its portrayal of Portia.

To read the final scene merely as a trick in which is used to end the play on a light note is quite possible. We are always made aware by Portia’s lines that Bassanio is in no danger. But such a reading would imply that Portia is not only clever but also very cruel. What woman could display the tenderness that Portia does in Act III, Scene ii, would be so cruel to her husband a few hours after he had witnessed the near death of his best friend? (Hyman 113)

In keeping with the idea that this Portia is not only just and educated, it stands to reason that there must be some deeper reasons as to why she chooses to characterize Morocco by his “complexion” rather than some other adjective. To know this, we must look again at the language of the definition and analyze the character a bit more closely.

In his first appearance on stage Morocco pleads not to be judged solely on the basis of appearances, namely by his dark skin as a tawny Moor, which would be foreign to the European preference for their own fair skin. Portia is not Desdemona, but to Portia’s credit her objections to Morocco’s ‘complexion’ are not simply skin-deep. The Elizabethan meaning of ‘complexion’ includes the sense of one’s ‘temperament’ or ‘habit of mind,’ and ‘complexion,’ as Morocco uses it, meaning the natural appearance of the skin, was originally thought to show one’s temperament. Portia does so not solely because she typically uses the outer habits of her suitors as semiotics – signs by which to read their inner characters – but because Morocco’s choosing has demonstrated his superficially ‘golden mind.’ (Holmer 102)

As much as Morocco might acknowledge that he is seemingly out of place in Venice and that he may find himself subject to discrimination, we will find through more in-depth study that it is truly he and not Portia who is more concerned with race and position in society. While Portia may acknowledge some of the “flaws” he possess (namely his skin color among others), she will also do her part to ensure that he is not treated in any way differently than the others. After all, if we look closely at the casket scene (which we will), we will find that the casket scene is truly an embodiment of three different views of love – Morocco simply does not hold a view which is congruent with that of Portia’s father. While her dismissal may seem to be based on skin color, it is rather his attitude and temperament that allow her to dismiss him as she does.

Due to the fact that his skin is of a different color, it is apparently easier for Portia to dismiss Morocco as she feels she can more clearly behold his inner temperament and humours through the color of his skin, but she has many more reasons for her dismissal of him. First of all, he is nationally foreign to her. Secondly, he is a superficial character who sees only the gold and silver and places subsequent price values not only on the caskets but on Portia herself. When looking at the caskets, Morocco is tempted by the silver casket which promises him “as much as he deserves” (II.vii.2.5), but eventually places the higher value of gold above the silver and equates monetary value with Portia.