Othello Act V Revisited
Killing myself, to die upon a kiss
Welcome to Reading Revisited, a place for friends to enjoy some good old-fashioned book chat while revisiting the truth, beauty, and goodness we’ve found in our favorite books.
Hello my friends, so, we have reached the end.
How to finish these Read Along Guides?
How to give you thoughts that are satisfying, when the conclusion can certainly never be conclusively brought to a satisfying close? How to hold out hope for our hero, and how to glean whatever lessons for ourselves so that we can leave this tragedy with hope?
This is our task today.
Timeline
“Man, the man is non-stop!…Why do you write like you’re running out of time. Write day and night like you’re running out of time. Everyday you fight like you’re running out of time…like you’re running out of time. Are you running out of time?”
-the chorus in Lin Manuel-Miranda’s Hamilton
Once more, let me remind us of the timeline of events:
Day 0 (Act I) - wedding night.
(XX Days Off Stage Sailing from Venice to Cyprus.)
Day 1 (Act II) - arrival in Cyprus, Othello dismisses Cassio this night.
Day 2 morning to afternoon (Act III)- Iago convinces Othello that Desdemona is having an affair with Cassio.
Day 2 afternoon to evening (Act IV)- Othello plans to kill Desdemona. Desdemona fully and freely forgives Othello.
Day 2 night (Act V) - Othello kills Desdemona.
Ladies and gentleman, the journey we have just traveled, was a mere 24 hours.1 At the close of this Act, we too should be begging with Desdemona:
Kill me to-morrow; let me live to-night…but half an hour!…But while I say one prayer!
(V.ii. 84, 86, & 88)
Like a child going to bed, she begs for just a few more moments.
It is said that a tragedy is a story in which we can say, “if only this had been different, everything would have been fine.”
We have already said that about Cassio’s drinking in Act II. But here, at the end of an extremely fast course of events, we say, “If Othello had just waited one more moment! Just a few more minutes! Then, everyone would have come and the truth would have been revealed! If only!”
Othello’s Famous “Put Out the Light” Speech
Before we come to the final end, let us examine this gorgeous speech.
Remember the setting: Othello has walked into his and his wife’s bedroom with a candle, she is sleeping on the bed. He alternates between looking at the small “flaming minister” of candle light in his hand, and looking down on his wife’s face, which, as a face of Man, is the “most cunning” pattern Nature ever created and which is lit from within by the life and heat God breathed into her.2
It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul—
Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars—
It is the cause. Yet I’ll not shed her blood,
Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow,
And smooth as monumental alabaster.
Yet she must die, else she’ll betray more men.
Put out the light, and then put out the light.
If I quench thee, though flaming minister,
I can again thy former light restore,
Should I repent me; put once put out thy light,
Thou cunning’st pattern of excelling nature,
I know not where is the Promethean heat
That can thy light relume. When I have pluck’d thy rose,
I cannot give it vital growth again;
It needs must wither. I’ll smell thee on the tree.[kissing her.]
O balmy breath, that dost almost persuade
Justice to break her sword! One more, one more.
Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee,
And love thee after. One more, and that’s the last:
So sweet was ne’er so fatal. I must weep,
But they are cruel tears. This sorrow’s heavenly;
It strikes where it doth love. She wakes.(V.ii.1-22)
One thought here (though we could have a thousand):
Othello is able to love Desdemona if she is just a picture. When she is asleep, and pretty, and has no agency or personality with which he must interact, no thoughts or speech or gestures to interpret and respond to, he can find it within himself to kiss and to love her. Perhaps because it’s easy to love a thing we can form into our own image. But it is harder to love people when they are awake.
I have thought of this scene, often, with my own children. When I kiss their sleeping heads, I pray for the grace to love them for themselves, and not just for who I want them to be.
Othello’s Fatal Flaw
Othello, in Act III, made the forgivable sin of adultery, unforgivable. Now that he has discovered that his “sacrifice” is actually a murder (though I would contend that Desdemona gave herself willingly, and so her death is still a sacrifice), he makes the sin of murder unforgivable, by committing suicide.
Thus, if we do not forgive our fellow man (or woman), we become incapable of forgiving ourselves.
The weapon turns upon our own breast.
Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who trespass against us…
So do I hold out any hope for Othello?
Perhaps we can find small hints of hopes within him, but our theology (and the theology of Shakespeare’s audience) would have seen little to no hope for a man who takes his own life.
So, is this where we must leave ourselves? Mourning not only the temporal destruction of a good man, but also his eternal damnation? Does Iago, the devil, win?
For that’s the dichotomy that has already been established: good vs. evil. If Othello is without question damned, we sit before a stage staring at a silent devil who has ripped a baptized soul out of Christ’s loving embrace.
That is a tragedy.
But thanks be for grace, I believe there is always hope. Remember who the anti-Iago is? Desdemona.
Othello: But, O vain boast!
Who can control his fate? ‘Tis not so now.
Be not afraid though you do see me weapon’d;
Here is my journey’s end, here is my butt,
And very sea-mark of my utmost sail.
Do you go back dismay’d? ‘Tis a lost fear;
Man but a rush against Othello’s breast,
And he retires. Where should Othello go?
Now, how dost though look now? O ill-starr’d wench!
Pale as thy smock! When we shall meet at compt,
This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven,
And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl!
Even like thy chastity. O cursed, cursed slave!
Whip me, ye devils,
From the possession of this heavenly sight.
Blow me about in winds, roast me in sulphur,
Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire.
O Desdemona! Dead! Desdemona! Dead!
O! O!
(V. ii. 262-285)
Proud man, you do not even know where your hope lies.
Turning, I look upon the blood-drained face, as pale as her smock. I look to the moment when Othello and Desdemona will meet at compt, at the Last Judgement, and when her look will not hurl his soul from heaven, but where she, Christ-like in her firm-footed role as a true bride, will again be asked: “Who hath done this deed?” (V.ii.126) And she will again say:
“Nobody. I myself. Farewell. Commend me to my kind lord.”
(V.ii. 127-128)
Othello, when she speaks these words still in this world, says: “She’s like a liar gone to burning hell” (V.ii.133). And others have also called her final line a “fib.”3 But I do not prefer to see it so. I prefer to remember Act IV, when she says:
“God me such uses send, not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend!” (IV.iii.102-103)
and…
“My love doth so approve him that even his stubbornness, his checks, his frowns—prithee unpin me—have grace and favour in them.”
(IV.iii.18-20)
For at the Last Judgement, I do not see Desdemona’s face as it is now, dead, pale, strangled on a pillow, but alive with light and true to her “unpinned” self. I see her standing as the Paraclete will stand before each of us, not as the prosecution— that narrow role is fully and miserably filled by the shriveled Iago’s of the world—but as our defense attorney, covering all our blemishes with redeeming love.
“Let nobody blame him,” she says, “his scorn I approve” (IV. iii.50).
And look who knocks at the door directly after Desdemona said these all-forgiving and all-defending words?
“It is the wind” (IV.iii.52).
The wind, a sign of the Holy Spirit.
No, I believe, in her final lines, she, like Christ, takes upon herself her beloved’s sin. She claims responsibility— “I myself” —and willingly lays down her life for her spouse. Othello may have smothered her, but she died when she chose to give up the ghost.
To return, therefore to Othello, I choose to read his last line with as much hope as possible.
Killing myself, to die upon a kiss.
(V.ii.362)
Though his second to last action was to stab himself, his last action was a hopeless act of love. Perhaps, like the poor woman and who gave an onion,4 this is enough. Hopefully, this is enough for Desdemona’s advocacy to win his soul for Christ’s all-redeeming, all-forgiving grace. Perhaps, if she does not throw a stone, neither will He.
Final Lines
First things first, central things central, last things last.
Who has the final words of the play? Not Iago, his last lines are:
Demand me nothing. What you know, you know.
From this time forth I never will speak word.
(V.ii.306-307)
I hate him. ‘Nough said.
No, after Othello requests:
Speak of me as I am (345).
The representative of the Duke of Venice has the last words. Let us hear them:
[To Iago] O Spartan dog,
More fell than anguish, hunger, or the sea!
Look at the tragic loading of this bed.
This is thy work. —The object poisons sight;
Let it be hid. Gratiano, keep the house,
And seize upon the fortunes of the Moor,
For they succeed on you. To you, Lord Governor,
Remains the censure of this hellish villain;
The time, the place, the torture—O, enforce it!
Myself will strait aboard; and to the state
This heavy act with heavy heart relate.[Exeunt.]
(V.ii.364-374).
What I take from this final address:
Evil does not have the last say, but is punished (i.e. Iago doesn’t win entirely);
The themes of state and domesticity continue to influence each other;
Money remains a factor;
and, it is important to tell this story.
The final thought I take from Othello for my own edification:
Fear the devil;
trust not in myself to distinguish between appearance and reality;
and, mostly, pray and trust in grace.
Discussion Questions:
There are many, many ways to read and interpret Shakespeare, in what ways did you read this play, individual scenes, or characters differently than I did?
I don’t believe a book should be distilled into a “moral.” However, I find that if I do not take some lesson away from a tragedy, nihilism temps me. Therefore, what one thought/moral are you carrying away from this play?
Share thoughts on the themes we were tracking:
Discernment
Marriage
Money
Appearance vs. Reality
External vs. Internal
Words vs. Actions
Domestic Sphere vs. Political Sphere (or Private vs. Public)
Quote a favorite line
Quote a favorite set of dialogue
What, for you, are the most evil words in this play?
What, for you, are the most morally good words in this play?
What character/s do you…
like/appreciate?
despise?
find the most superfluous?
What moments of this play don’t seem to “fit” or make sense?
Will you read Othello again?
Until next time, keep revisiting the good books that enrich your life and nourish your soul.
In Case You Missed It:
On the Podcast:
Read Along Guides for Othello:
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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One wonders if Joel Surnow and Robert Cochran were at least partially inspired by Shakespeare when they directed the T.V. series “24.”
One could write an entire, beautiful essay on this speech and Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein.
Ref. “Othello as Meta-Drama” by Peter Milward, S.J. of Sophia University, Tokoyo pg. 252 in the Ignatius Critical Edition. On the whole, I agreed with this essay. There were just a few things with which I did not fully agree, one of them being to call this final line of Desdemona’s a “fib.” Shakespeare can’t have the final words his Christ-like and Virgin Mary-like heroine say be a fib. It’s too lame.
For this reference, see The Brother’s Karamasov by Dostoevsky. The story within the story is: a sinful, selfish woman once in her life gave one onion to a beggar. After she died, the beggar reached down to save her from Hell. The woman had to hold onto that one onion in the beggar’s hand in order to be pulled up to salvation.