Othello Act III Revisited
Men are not gods
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On this eighth day of Christmas, I wish you great joy and I hope that the shadows of this play may serve as a contrast to the light in your present moments.
Now, onto the central Act of this tragedy.
“You’re paranoid in every paragraph of how they will see you.”
-“Eliza Hamilton” in Lin Manuel-Miranda’s Hamilton
Plot Summary with Little Bits of Commentary Thrown In
Scene 1 (56 lines)
Setting is “before the citadel,” presumably outside. Cassio, a clown, musicians, Iago, and Emilia (Iago’s wife) all take turns coming on and leaving the stage. It’s an amusing scene, with comic mistiming of actors crossing and recrossing the stage, and with music being commanded to cease just after it has begun. One thing is clear, no one slept after the fighting in the street yesterday night.
Scene 2 (6 lines)
Setting is “the citadel.” Othello gives Iago the job of communicating to the Senate, then he leaves to overlook the city’s fortifications. It’s a jarringly brief scene, and entirely focused on the public sphere, thus building tension within the private sphere.
Scene 3 (483 lines)
Setting is the garden of the citadel, presumably within an enclosure, a hortus conclusus, a Scripturally and Literarily charged space. This is where the entirety of Act III occurs, it is the central, pivotal moment of the entire play. And it is here, in a garden, that our hero falls, just as the first Man. I’m keeping the Genesis account in mind while reading this entire scene.
It opens upon Desdemona with Cassio and Emilia, two women and a man. Desdemona reassures Cassio she will do everything in her power to influence Othello to raise Cassio back to his pre-fall position. Othello and Iago enter the garden, now there are three men and two women present.
Cassio leaves, not wanting to plead his own case, as he has not slept all night, and does not trust himself to speak well. Now there are two men and two women in the garden.
Desdemona stands with Emilia, Othello and Iago approach. Iago says he “likes not that,” as Cassio leaves, implying there was something sketchy going on between Cassio and the women. Desdemona presses Othello hard (and perhaps rather happily with wit and good humor?) to forgive Cassio. Othello says Cassio may come to dine (a deeply traditional and meaningful action of communion) with them whenever he wants, and that he will deny Desdemona nothing. Desdemona (perhaps merrily?) says that this does not count as him having given her a favor, since it is for his own benefit. Othello asks to be left to himself, Desdemona leaves with Emilia, saying to her husband, “whatever you be, I am obedient.” A calm conclusion to their first marital face-off.
Now there are just two men left in the garden: Othello and Iago. Man is now alone, without his helpmate, and the serpent begins to pour his poison into the Man’s ear. We’ll explore this conversation in detail later, suffice it here to say that for the next 150 lines, Iago uses twisted logic to convince Othello that Desdemona is cheating on him with Cassio.
(Can I just pause here to say how ridiculous this is from a timing standpoint? Shakespeare in this play, as in Romeo and Juliet, drastically sped up the time between events, compared to his source material. In Shakespeare’s telling of this story, there hasn’t even been time for the newlyweds to have intercourse between themselves, let alone time for Desdemona to fall out of love and into love with a new man! The devil uses logic, but begins from a false (and often stupid) premise.)
Othello gets the time it takes to say two lines to be alone, which is not long, and then Iago is back to pour 20 more lines of poison into his ear, then he exits again, allowing Othello space for a soliloquy in which he reveals his fatal flaw. One man stands alone in the garden.
Then Desdemona and Emilia re-enter. There are now two women and one man in the garden.
Othello says he has a headache. Desdemona offers him the infamous handkerchief. He pushes the fruit-embroidered item away, and she drops it. (Woman has offered a fruit-ish item to Man, and he has refused it. Yet, we are not filled with hope—why?) Othello and Desdemona leave, Emilia is alone in the garden. Woman is alone. She picks up the fruit-embroidered handkerchief and says she is happy to give this to her husband, since he has often asked for it. Iago enters. There is now, for the first time, one man and one woman in this garden.
Iago is rude. Emilia seeks to win his affection by giving him the fruit-embroidered handkerchief he’d asked for. He snatches it from her, and dismisses her.
Now it is again, just one man alone in the garden. (Or is it just the serpent in the garden?) Iago plans to put this handkerchief in Cassio’s room, and thus “prove” to Othello that Desdemona is unfaithful.
Othello re-enters the garden. It is obvious that Othello has been completely altered. He’s half-crazy, wishes he’d never heard Iago’s suggestions, says he can no longer be a general, then turns on Iago and threatens to kill him. A true dichotomy has been created in Othello’s mind: either Iago is true, or Desdemona. And thus Othello concludes: either Iago must die or Desdemona.
For the next 170 lines, Iago continues to warp Othello’ thoughts and imagination against Desdemona and Cassio. (Side note: Shakespeare is a master. Iago’s description of Cassio’s “dream” is horrendous for Othello to hear and imagine, but utterly ridiculous and hilarious for the audience. One wonders if the actor playing Iago was able to keep his bearing while imitating Cassio canoodling with Iago in their sleep. To laugh in the midst of such horror is a talented gift bestowed on us by a masterful playwright. Also, how interesting that evil Iago is “playing” the part of good Desdemona in this fake dream.)
The scene ends in the garden with both men kneeling while swearing their loyalty to each other and to vengeance. If earthly paradise is a place of 1) God’s presence; 2) the state of original innocence; and 3) man and woman being in communion with each other. This garden has been the diabolical opposite. The devil is present, everyone is suspected of sin or is actually committing sin, and not only are man and woman not in communion, but man is often alone or at odds with woman, and the scene ends with two men swearing vengeance on both a woman and a man for their perceived false union. Marriage has been blasted apart.
Scene 4 (202 lines)
Setting is “before the citadel.” The clown goes to look for where Cassio lives, on Desdemona’s request. Desdemona asks Emilia if she has seen the handkerchief, and tells Emilia that Othello could never be jealous. Othello enters, is upset with Desdemona, tells her the handkerchief had sorcery woven into its fabric. Desdemona, as an honest Christian, says she wishes that she’d never seen it. She presses Othello about Cassio, he presses her about the handkerchief. He leaves. Emilia cynically says that all men are like this, jealous without cause. Cassio (on Iago’s advice) enters and again presses Desdemona to help him. She says she’s not in a good position to do so anymore, but will try more for him than she would even try for herself. Desdemona gives her forgiveness speech to Emilia and Cassio, and then she and Emilia exit. Cassio is last on stage, and a new character enters: Bianca. It’s made clear that Cassio and Bianca get together at night, and she wishes she could see him soon, but he can’t right now. End scene. (Why this ending? Why end the central Act with Cassio and his fling?)
Central Things Central
“Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul but I do love thee; and when I love thee not chaos is come again.”
-Othello, III. iii. 91-92
In this Read Along Guide, I will linger within the central scene three of this central third act, because it is the heart of the matter. Let us begin to examine it through the lens of our main theme:
Appearance vs. Reality / Exterior vs. Interior / Words vs. Actions
“My lord is not my lord; nor should I know him, were he in favour as in humour altered.”
-Desdemona, III.iv. 125-126
We could spend hours talking about the layered interplay between appearance and reality. Let us begin.
Othello: Think, my lord! By heaven, he echoes me,
As if there were some monster in his thought
Too hideous to be shown. Thou dost mean something;
…
And didst contract and purse thy brow together,
As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain
Some horrible conceit. If thou dost love me,
Show me thy thought.
Iago: My lord, you know I love you.(III.iii.110-112, 117-120)
Iago, the master manipulator, the crushingly twisted imitator of St. Peter’s words of reconciliation to Christ after His Resurrection, causes men to see the truth backwards. It is true that there is a “monster” in Iago’s thought “too hideous to be shown.” But Iago so manipulates his exterior expressions (both verbal and visual) as to cause Othello to read the signs right, but arrive at the wrong conclusion (the false conclusion which Iago was leading him towards).
Everything is backwards.
Iago, the man continually called honest, is being frightfully honest through dishonestly pretending that he doesn’t wish to be honest. He’s saying exactly what he wants to say, by pretending not to want to say it.
And then look how Shakespeare gives us an excellent moral, one that you could certainly, and with honesty, place as a motto above your bathroom mirror, but does so through the mouth of the most dishonest man in the play, the man who, as he says it, means exactly the opposite.
Men should be that they seem.
(130)
Iago knows what is right, but he rejects it. He says men should appear to be who they really are, thus giving the answer that the teacher is looking for. But, even as this teacher’s-pet’s hand falls to his side and he represses a smug expression, he doesn’t believe what he has said. Remember how Iago said he’d like to “whip me such honest knaves”?
“You believe that God is one; you do well. Even the demons believe—and shudder.”
-James 2:19
This verse, accompanied with Iago’s example, is a powerful reminder to me that it is not enough to know the right answer. You believe you’re a great Christian because you know that God is God? So what, so does the devil. Knowing the truth is not enough, if it doesn’t move me to bend my knee.
Examine these next examples of Iago saying *mostly* true things, to hint in the wrong way, towards a bad conclusion.
Good name in man and woman, dear my lord,
Is the immediate jewel of their souls:
Who steals my purse steals trash; ‘tis something, nothing;
’Twas mine, ‘tis his, and has been slave to thousands;
But he that filches from me my good name
Robs me of that which not enriches him
And makes me poor indeed.(159-165)
A man’s good name is worth preserving, but not to the point of death. One’s reputation should not be the closest jewel within the soul. Christ’s and the saints’ disregard for public opinion should teach us this. It is well when men think well of us, but it is merely a boon, a side affect, the dollop of whip cream but not the actual apple pie, and it should not be the goal. Ambition, prestige, men’s good opinion, these are passing things, and if made the destination, show themselves to be a mirage. Iago, like the devil, makes 90% true statements, but then twists the last 10%.
Or, he makes a 100% true statement (i.e. money moves from one man to the next, and only has as much value as we give it), but lives the opposite. Iago’s external words do not change the reality that he never ceases pressing Roderigo for cash. Again, Iago knows the truth, but the truth does not set him free; he does not make the truth “a part of him.”
O, beware, my lord, of jealousy;
It is the green-ey’d monster which doth mock
The meat it feeds on.
(169-171)
Iago deeply understands human nature. His ability to suggest, and hint, and repeat, and repeat again, and deny in order to suggest in just exactly the right ways, confirms that he understands the workings of the human heart. Yet, these workings do not move him to love.1 Iago creates an appetite in Othello for what he has to say, by withholding it from him, and goads Othello into speaking into existence most of his own horror. It is Othello, who speaks the substance of the fear. Iago often just implies. Iago would’ve been a masterful advertiser. He makes Othello ask for what he does not want to hear. Iago understands men.
But, under this barrage, Othello holds up decently well at first:
Think’st thou I’d make a life of jealousy…
’Tis not to make me jealous
To say my wife is fair, feeds well, loves company,
Is free of speech, sings, plays, and dances well;(lines between 180-195)
Side note: Iago did NOT say all of these things about Desdemona, he may have hinted, but he did not catalogue these traits. Othello is volunteering this list of Desdemona’s attributes.
This is similar to the original garden, when the serpent asks, “Did God say, ‘You shall not eat of any tree of the garden?’” And the woman said to the serpent, “We may eat of the fruit of the trees of the garden; but God said, ‘You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree which is in the midst of the garden, neither shall you touch it, lest you die.’” The serpent first implies a larger prohibition than is actually in existence (i.e. you can’t eat fruit from any tree) and then Eve responds with the true and smaller prohibition (i.e. we just can’t eat of one tree), but adds on “and we can’t touch it either.”
The serpent has a way of suggesting and suggesting, and twisting, so that the one tempted weaves their own trap. But let’s continue with Othello’s response:
Where virtue is, these are more virtuous.
Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw
The smallest fear or doubt of her revolt;
For she had eyes, and chose me. No, Iago;
I’ll see before I doubt.(lines between 180-195)
This is as good as Othello’s strength can muster. And its a decent rebuttal to the tempter. But even in his response, he reveals either new or formerly hidden self-doubts which provide ammunition to Iago. And indeed, Iago uses this meager win of Othello, as a spring board to launch his next attack. Moral of the story: do not engage in verbal combat with the devil. It doesn’t work. Bend the knee, and ignore the poison.
But we have strayed from an overt discussion of our theme of appearance vs. reality, and so it is time to move on.
Othello’s fatal flaw
Next, in this central scene, comes the soliloquy from Othello which reveals his fatal flaw. We’ve been reading for this since the beginning. Let’s see what we make of this speech.
Iago: I once more take my leave [Exits]
Othello: This fellow’s of exceeding honesty,
And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit,
Of human dealing. If I do prove her haggard,
Though that her jesses were my dear heartstrings,
I’d whistle her off and let her down the wind
To prey at fortune. Haply, for I am black
And have not those soft parts of conversation
That chamberers have, or for I am declin’d
Into the vale of years—yet that’s not much—
She’s gone; I am abus’d; and my relief
Must be to loathe her. O curse of marriage,
That we can call these delicate creatures ours,
But not their appetites! I had rather be a toad,
And live upon the vapour of a dungeon,
Than keep a corner in the thing I love
For others’ uses. Yet ‘tis the plague of great ones;
Prerogativ’d are they less than the base;
’Tis destiny unshunnable, like death:
Even then this forked plague is fated to us
When we do quicken.
(261-281)
Judging from the first lines of this speech, one could say that Othello’s fatal mistake was in discernment: he trusted the wrong man. Because Iago had the appearance of an honest man, Othello failed when he trusted this appearance as an external sign of an internal reality.
But this doesn’t help us much.
Because what are we to do if this is the fatal flaw of Othello? What lesson do we draw from this? To be more wary of our fellow men? To look for signs of vice? It can’t be. First, because no one in the play is able to see Iago for who he really is. But more importantly, because if we take this as our moral, we set ourselves up to form a vision of the world which matches Iago’s. Wouldn’t that be a satanic triumph. If evil causes good men to trust less, to enclose themselves in themselves more, to be wary of being vulnerable, and to not wear their heart on their sleeve, well then, evil has triumphed. For it is not good for man to be alone.
No, I would suggest that Othello’s fatal flaw is: lack of forgiveness.
Why must his “relief” be to “loathe her”? Why couldn’t his relief have been to forgive her? Now this is something we can do something with. For, even if everything Iago said about Desdemona were true, even if she were as adulterous and phony as Iago suggests, if Othello had forgiven Desdemona, this tragedy would’ve been blessedly derailed. If Othello had forgiven, he would not have sworn revenge.
Let us talk about this more.
Othello made a sin (adultery) unforgivable, which actually is forgivable. There is only one unforgivable sin: the sin against the Holy Spirit. This is the sin which says, “the sin I have done cannot be forgiven, and so I will not ask forgiveness.” Typically, we say that the action associated with this sin is suicide. It is a sin against God, because it refuses to see God as God, it refuses to acknowledge that one’s sin is smaller than Him. The sin against the Holy Spirit is the one in which the person decides to keep their sin erect, as a massive idol, believing it is bigger than God. And so, this sin is unforgivable, because it does not ask to be forgiven.
But, the sin Othello is grappling with here is forgivable. It’s adultery. Othello is married to Desdemona, and his marriage vows were made for just such a moment as this.
“I will keep the law given by God; sanctioned by man. I will hold to the principles received by me when I was sane, and not mad-as I am now. Laws and principles are not for times when there is no temptation: they are for such moments as this; when body and soul rise in mutiny against their rigour…If by my individual convenience I might break them, what would be their worth? They have a worth-I have always believed; and if I cannot believe it now, it is because I am insane-quite insane…preconceived opinions, foregone determinations are all I have at this hour to stand by; there I plant my feet.”
(Charlotte Bronte, Jane Eyre)
On his wedding day, Othello did not promise to be true to Desdemona for the sake of that wedding day. It is too easy to be devoted to someone on one’s wedding day. Othello made his vows precisely for such a moment as this. A moment when he feels insane, and angered against his beloved beyond all reason. Covenants are made so that the members of that covenant can withstand trial. Vows are not for the easy times, but for the hard.
Forget for a second that Desdemona is entirely innocent. Her innocence adds to the tragic nature of this play, but it is not required for it to be a tragedy. Even if Desdemona were guilty of everything Iago suggests, it is Othello’s proper and promised role, as a Christian husband, to forgive.2 He is called to love, not counting the cost. He is called to imitate Christ, the Bridegroom, who even while we were sinful, laid down His life for us, the Church, His bride.
One type of this in the Old Testament is in the book of Hosea.
For their mother has played the harlot;
she that conceived them has acted shamefully.
For she said, “I will go after my lovers…”
Therefore, behold, I will allure her,
and bring her into the wilderness,
and speak tenderly to her.
And there I will give her her vineyards,
and make the Valley of Anchor a door of hope.
And there she shall answer as in the days of her youth,
as at the time when she came out of the land of Egypt.
And in that day, says the Lord, you will call me, ‘My husband,’ and no longer will you call me, ‘My Baal,’ For I will remove the names of the Baals from her mouth, and they shall be mentioned by you no more. And I will make for you a covenant on that day with the beasts of the field, the birds of the air, and the creeping things of the ground; and I will abolish the bow and the sword, and war from the land; and I will make you lie down in safety. And I will espouse you forever; I will espouse you in righteousness and in justice, in steadfast love, and in mercy. I will espouse you in faithfulness; and you shall know the Lord.(Hosea 2: 5, 14-20)
The prophet Hosea was asked by God to marry a harlot, and be faithful to her despite her harlotry. Hosea’s wife left him again and again, for man after man. She called to other men, even when they were not seeking her, and she broke her marriage covenant by being with them. And look how Hosea was asked to respond. Look at the incredible humility and extreme generosity he showed on this faithless wife who only returned to him after she could no longer entice other men, when she came to him not out of love, but out of desperation.
The forgiveness we are called to is radical indeed.
Othello is called to imitate this. But he refuses. Othello’s fatal flaw is that he refuses to forgive.
Renaissance, A Self-Fashioning
According to Stephen Greenblatt, it was in the Renaissance that Man began to think of himself as being fashioned by himself (instead of by God and Church). This is a restatement of the garden-old problem that Man tries to make himself a god.
Shakespeare frequently appears to place this self-fashioning/self-made-man talk not into the mouths of his true hero’s, but into the mouth’s of his bad fools,3 devils, and cynical, world-weary wives:
But jealous souls will not be answer’d so;
They are not ever jealous for the cause,
But jealous for they are jealous. ‘Tis a monster
Begot upon itself, born on it self.(Emilia, III.iv.160-163)
Jealousy creates itself.
Men are not gods. We do not have the capacity to make ourselves, but only to unmake ourselves. As Othello falls deeper into proud anger, he devolves. He places a lot of importance on the lost handkerchief, because of the pagan charms woven into it, but less and less importance on his wedding vows. He forgets his catechism. Any sacramental is of less importance than a sacrament. And he’s placing more importance on the false sacramental of the handkerchief than on the true sacrament of his marriage bonds. He’s going backwards in theological understanding.
And our tragic hero continues self-fashioning his tragic demise by deciding for himself what is an unforgivable sin, and also by presumptively acting as if he, a mere man, could receive an unforgivable insult.
No one can do something to us, mere men, that is unforgivable. The degree of the offense is determined not only by the action, but by the status of the one offended. Thus it is far worse to spit on a judge in court, than for a boy to spit on another kid on the playground. Neither is sanctioned, but the former is a worse offense than the latter. Therefore, an offense against God can be of such a magnitude that it is unforgivable. And, thanks be to the all-benevolent God, the only sin He has made unforgivable is the one we do not ask forgiveness for.
Thus, there is no sin against a mere man that cannot be or should not be forgiven. Man should not make himself a god, and decide for himself what sins are to be forgiven, and which are to be damned.
Thus, under his lack of forgiveness, lies Othello’s pride. He holds himself too dear. And a tell-tale sign of his pride, is his false humility. In this soliloquy he begins to beat himself up for being black, poorly spoken, and old. And then, as illogical sins often do, in his next sentence he proudly swings to the opposite extreme from self-doubt and braggadociously states that he’d rather forsake his human nature (and therefore his everlasting soul) than share what is “his.” He concludes by lumping himself with other “great ones” who, because they are great, are privileged to suffer more than “base” men.
A mere man cannot, properly speaking, damn someone. Yet, Othello does. Oh poor, tragic, dear Othello. Our great man. The one we all love. He thinks too highly of himself (what man doesn’t?) and too poorly of himself (what man doesn’t?). He takes infinite offense against a perceived fault, and damns the doer to a premature death. He chooses not to forgive. He allows his imagination to picture all the details of the offense against him, and he works himself into a rage against his wife.
Adultery is awful. It can be obsessively torturous. But it must be forgiven.
Just think to what heights Othello could have soured if he had forgiven Desdemona. Imagine the subsequent joy at discovering she was innocent.
And what’s more, the issue here isn’t even whether the sin in question occurred. Othello is already half-crazy with anger just at the thought of Desdemona’s unfaithfulness. The issue is in his own mind, in controlling his imagination and thoughts so that he does not allow himself to think ill of his wife.
“You have heard that it was said to the men of old, ‘You shall not kill; and whoever kills shall be liable to judgement.’ But I say to you that every one who is angry with his brother shall be liable to judgment…You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ But I say to you that every one who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart.”
-Matthew 5:21-22 & 27-28
Christ, too, is very concerned with not only external actions, but the internal state of a man’s mind.
Political Sphere vs. Domestic Sphere
We have so much time, and so little to do. Strike that, reverse it.
-Willy Wanka
I must be brief here.
O, farewell!
Farewell the neighing steed and the shrill trump…
Farewell! Othello’s occupation is gone.(lines between 349-361)
The domestic sphere directly impacts the political sphere. Because Othello believes he has lost his wife, the nation has lost its general.
Desdemona’s Speech
To conclude positively, let us ask: who does forgive in this play? The answer: Desdemona. She gives Othello the benefit of the doubt, assuming that affairs of state are weighing on his mind, and then says:
Beshrew me much, Emilia,
I was —unhandsome warrior that I am —
Arraigning his unkindness in my soul;
But now I find I have suborn’d the witness,
And he’s indicted falsely.
(III.iv.151-155)
In 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, Stephen Covey makes the case that effective people understand which things lie within their sphere of influence, and then only try to fix those things. Effective people, therefore, are not victims, they do not blame external causes for their internal problems.
In secular terms, Desdemona is an effective person.
In religious terms, she is virtuous.
She looks within herself, sees a pride that was too eager to take offense, judges this part of her to be a “bribed witness” who made false statements out of a wounded ego against her husband, and she forgives.
Oh that we may all be as unhandsome of warriors as she.
Desdemona could have given into the same fatal flaw as Othello. She too, could have have retained his sins, and pondered them in her heart. And then where would the play have gone? What would this have looked like, if Desdemona also began acting against Othello, rather than for him? Would there have been a double murder scene to close the play? And though this would have perhaps made some folks happy (the folks who like to see a “strong woman” who never lets herself be “walked over”), it is not, to me, a less tragic end to die in anger rather than in mercy. If we all must die, it is far better to die innocently, than with blood on one’s own hands as well.
The world told Christ to fight for his crown, to come down from the cross. Christ’s response was to willingly and meekly die for his crown of thorns, and remain on the cross. And in so doing, saved us all. Will Desdemona’s choice to love rather than hate, to lay down her life rather than defend it, also prove to be a saving sacrifice? Dare we hope.
Until next time, keep revisiting the good books that enrich your life and nourish your soul.
In Case You Missed It:
On the Podcast:
ep. 31: Revisiting A Christmas Carol (w/ our own @Genna Moellering)
Read Along Guides for Othello (from the lovely @Jessica Risma):
What We’re Reading Next:
February
Out of the Silent Planet AND Perelandra by C.S. Lewis
March
That Hideous Strength by C.S. Lewis
April
The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins
A Few Reminders:
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This all reminds me of a scene in Perelandra (which we will read next month). The devil in that story is engaging in rigorous logical debate with the hero. The devil is a master of reason. But there’s this scene when debate is momentarily suspended, and the devilish character is stupidly, and methodically, and wastefully using his free time to kill frogs. In that moment, the hero realizes that the devil is a master with the tool of reason, but it’s only a tool to him, one he picks up and puts down. He doesn’t love the understanding it brings him; his learning does not lead to love.
Woe to us, therefore, who love learning, that we do not forget that all the gifts we have be given were given for the purpose of love. Iago would’ve made an excellent psychologist. But what good is that? If he uses it not to promote human flourishing, but to destroy.
Please, please, please do not read this as me casting any stones. God knows I cannot know every perspective of each dear soul who will read this.
“To thine own self be true,” says Polonius, the foolish advisor to the murderous king in Hamlet.