Você está na página 1de 8

The Tragic in Othello

Ben Shenhar 28.08.2017

Introduction
“A Shakespearean tragedy … may be called a story of exceptional calamity leading to the death
of a man in high estate” (Bradley, 1904, p. 11) writes Bradley to whom I am much indebted in this
paper. Although lacking, I find this descriptive incipit to be a most natural starting-point for
introducing Shakespeare’s Othello. Othello tells the tale of its eponymous hero, a noble soldier,
who loses his equanimity, wife and finally his life while falling prey to the calculated intrigue cast
by Iago, his ensign. All the play’s characters are affected by Iago’s intrigue and thus we witness
drastic changes upon the tuche scale. However, the tragic elements of Othello extend beyond mere
vectors of movement upon this scale. Leavis sharply remarks: “[a] relevant discussion of its
(Othello’s) tragic significance will nevertheless be mainly a matter of character-analysis” (Leavis,
1971, p. 123). Therefore, I have divided my paper into analyses of the characters who I believe
bring to light its tragic elements: Othello, Iago, and Desdemona. Each shines light on a different
part of Othello’s tragic whole yet I believe that it is Iago, not Othello, who represents the ultimate
tragic fact of Othello.

Othello
Bradley claims that Othello is the most romantic figure of Shakespeare’s heroes (Bradley, 1904,
188). He hails from unknown, foreign royalty, has traversed mysterious lands and has encountered
prophetic sibyls. He is noble, grave, and has been steeled by experience and battle. His towering
figure warrants repose, order, and respect by all. Watching such a figure fall we are overcome with
pity and terror, wondering whether anything could have stopped his precipitous decline; or,
perhaps his helplessness in the face of unexpected vicissitudes is the tragic fact of his fate. To this
question, Bradley’s shrewd notion still rings true that if we were to exchange Othello for Hamlet
in one another’s plays, there would be no plays. Hamlet would have needed only a few moments
to see through Iago (Bradley, 1904). That is, the tragedy that befalls Othello’s could not have
happened to just anyone else and therefore Othello is somehow complicit in his downfall. As
Bradley writes: “the dictum that, with Shakespeare, ‘character is destiny’ … is the exaggeration of
a vital truth” (Bradley, 1904, p. 13). It is Othello’s character that leads him unto his catastrophic
destiny.
Othello’s mind is slowly poisoned by Iago with thoughts of his wife’s infidelity until he
kills her, and finally himself. Desdemona, Othello’s wife, is in fact chaste but through Iago’s
scheming, Othello, stricken with jealousy, comes to believe whole-heartedly in his wife’s
cuckoldry despite lacking the “ocular proof” he demands (3.3.361). What in Othello’s character
paves the way unto this destruction? What is his tragic flaw – his hamartia, as Aristotle puts it?
We may be tempted to claim that Othello is a man constantly in the grips of his passions. He may
be reckless, rash or hot-headed, swaying in the direction of his fleeting emotions. Perhaps Iago’s
insinuation of adultery so enflamed him that he acted out of momentary fervor? This view of
Othello is discordant, however, with the Othello we read outside of his jealousy. After striking
Desdemona in Act IV, Lodovico says of Othello: “Is this the nature whom passion could not shake?
Whose solid virtue the shot of accident nor dart of chance could neither graze nor pierce?”
(4.1.255-60). In Act III, Iago, who has here no motive for lying, is incredulous at hearing from
Emilia that Othello has gotten angry (3.4.128-32). Othello, with self-control and composure,
silences in a moment the night-brawl between his attendants and those of Barbantio: “Keep up
your bright swords, for the dew will rust them” (1.2.59). Thus, Othello comes across as an in-
command, composed soldier; not some brazen ruffian who lets his passions get the better of him.
Perhaps then we may say that Othello’s flaw is credulity or uncurbed trustworthiness.
Although he doubtlessly suffers from this, I believe his fundamental flaw extends beyond this and
ultimately encompasses it and more. In our current investigation, let us remember how very little
evidence is needed for Othello to be convinced of Desdemona’s unfaithfulness. Once Iago plants
the seed of doubt, jealousy spreads unabated like a virus within Othello. In Act III Scene III,
although Othello demands “ocular proof”, it is enough for Iago to “produce” the damning
handkerchief merely in words for Othello to move from resistance to full commitment to kill
Desdemona, all in the space of half a scene (Tedesco, 2013). Convinced of his wife’s corruption,
Othello swears an oath never to change his mind about her until he enacts a violent revenge. At
this point, Othello is fixed in his course, and the disastrous ending is unavoidable. Hence, I believe
Othello suffers not so much from rashness rather from resoluteness, an absoluteness or oneness of
mind. His nature is “all of one piece” as Bradley says (Bradley, 1904, p. 191). He is simple, non-
observant, free from introspection or reflection. He does not hesitate, acts instantaneously with
self-reliance. Where he trusts, loves, or envies - he does so wholly. Indeed, Othello encapsulates
his flaw best when he says to Iago: “To be once in doubt / Is once to be resolved” (3.3.183-4). I
believe he shares this flaw with heroes we have read in ancient tragedy. Antigone and Creon in
Antigone, or Odysseus and Philoctetes in Philoctetes all suffer from a lack of deliberation, a one-
sidedness. In our previous assignment, we revealed the shortcomings of this one-sidedness, and
the tragic lesson that arises from it. In this sense, Othello can also be said to reflect the lesson
stressed by heroes who exhibit rigidity and lack of deliberation.
Similar to heroes of ancient tragedy, Othello’s tragic trait is also the source of his greatness.
Whereas Herakles is recklessly brave and passionate, giving rise both to his greatness and
weakness, Othello’s resoluteness is also what makes him a leading soldier. Being an illustrious
military leader inextricably consists of a call-to-action, a deliverance, a want of quick closure
without extended due process; for most often times in war there is no time for due process. We
read of this want of closure when called by alarm to quell Cassio’s drunken violence, Othello
initiates no systematic inquiry but orders Iago: “[S]peak. Who began this?” (2.3.168). The ensign’s
words will be sufficient and no one will usurp his prerogative as the reporter even after declining
to give Othello the account he requests (Tedesco, 2013). Within his occupation’s limits as a solider,
Othello possesses the greatness of the tragic hero. As a noble and honorable soldier, Othello never
expected his ensign, Iago, to betray him. Iago breaks down the limitations of Othello’s military
outlook from within, turning Othello’s greatness on its head (Bloom, 1987). In the end, “Pride,
pomp and circumstance of glorious war” yields to cunning (3.3.335). Othello falls precisely
because of the traits we also admire in him.
Suffering and recognition of the hero and the arising emotions of pity and fear are integral
to ancient tragedy. Othello, I believe, brings these to us and more. Watching a brave, noble military
hero reduced to a cajoled, envy-crazed fiend induces feelings of terror and awe. Although Othello
is “larger than life” as a great military leader, he is made of the stuff we find within ourselves. His
resoluteness culminates in a terrible jealousy that is reminiscent of domestic, not heroic problems.
Thus, we experience pity and fear, for if this noble leader is so easily reduced to a jealous craze,
surely, we may be too.
Auden makes a fine point by claiming that Othello’s jealousy is not sexual in nature; rather,
it stems from his need to be loved and accepted as a Venetian. Othello fears that were it not for his
skills, he would be treated as another black barbarian. What matters to Othello is that Desdemona
loves him for who he is (Auden, 1971). “For nought did I in hate, but all in honour” (5.2292) says
Othello of Desdemona’s death. In the scene of Desdemona’s killing, Othello speaks of her death
as a sacrifice to his injured honor than a gratification of a diabolic passion. When thinking she still
lives, he smothers her again to put her out of her misery, for he wishes her no suffering. Thus,
Othello comes across as humane, compassionate, and even tender; not as a savage (Foote, 1988).
Our pity remains with him for his care is for justice and his own honor; things we surely aspire to,
despite his being bewitched. Eliot points out that Othello’s final soliloquy is centered around his
honor and his military achievements as he strives to “cheer himself up” (Eliot, 1971). He wants to
be remembered not as a heartless savage but as a fine servant to the state. Our pity only intensifies
reading his final plea to comfort himself in the wake of the recent calamities, wishing us to
remember his greatness, his love for honor and justice that have led him to this fateful moment.
In the final scene, once Emilia brings Iago’s deceit to light, Othello undergoes a cognitive
recognition of the shortcomings of his actions and the limitations of his psychology. Whereas the
audience or the reader is cognizant of Othello’s decline upon the tuche ladder throughout the play,
only following his recognition is Othello equally if not more cognizant of his final dustuchia. He
believed that killing Desdemona would restore a vestige of eutuchia to his life but with his
newfound recognition, his actions are marred by dustuchia. Similarly, throughout the play, Othello
finds himself in a series of kairoses. Each machination of Iago offers him the opportunity to
salvage his fate yet his actions merely accelerate them. Othello strives to make good of his situation
but finds himself in the worst possible scenario, a precipitous fall from eutuchia to dustuchia. This
acutely reflects the tragic worldview of the helplessness of the agent whose actions bring about
the opposite of his/her intention. Furthermore, Othello’s recognition is accompanied by our pity
for Iago does not offer explanations for his machinations and Othello remains “perplexed in the
extreme” (5.2.342). Poor Othello understands he is mistaken but cannot fathom with his simple
mind why he finds himself in this calamitous predicament. Why did Iago do this and where did he
go wrong? Thus, I believe Othello’s cognitive recognition is accompanied by a sort of
metaphysical recognition. He recognizes a power at play beyond his control or comprehension.
That power is the culmination of Iago’s will which, as we shall discuss, is almost as powerful as a
force of nature similar to chance or to the gods.
Iago
The tragic worldview centers around the existence of a volatile, mercurial world over which
humans have no control. In ancient tragedy, the heroes’ precarious position is determined by
uncontrollable factors of time and the divine. In Othello, however, Shakespeare paints a secular,
non-fatalistic world where there are no gods to dictate events. The plot proceeds from the actions
of its characters, specifically – from Iago’s actions. “I cannot think of any other play in which only
one character performs personal actions – all the deeds are Iago’s and all the others without
exception only exhibit behavior” writes Auden (Auden, 1971, p. 199). “Iago’s plot is Iago’s
character in action” writes Bradley (Bradley, 1904, p. 180). Iago is the sole driving force in the
play and his plot is the plot Othello. With Iago, Shakespeare creates a character who de facto acts
as the playwright of the play itself (Bloom, 1987), improvising his actions along the way to
accelerate the plot - his plot. Although Othello is complicit in his downfall, Iago, “like the ancient
Fate or intruding god” (Leavis, 1971, p. 109) seems to bear the burden of responsibility for
Othello’s downfall so much so that this downfall is eerily reminiscent of the tragic hero who falls
because of the gods. Iago’s “motivelessness”, as many scholars have called it, further emphasizes
this feeling; for we, together with Othello, can barely understand what fuels Iago’s actions. Iago
serves almost as an uncontrollable, inexplicable force of nature within Othello.
Each of Iago’s actions opens a new kairos. Iago seems to make the best of each kairos,
deftly improvising thereby accelerating his plot. Truly, Iago stands on “the crest of the wave” of
each opportunity, brilliantly steering the plot into newfound territories at the exact moment before
crashing into the rocks. Iago is almost high on his ability, elated by his power to dictate events as
he slowly climbs the tuche ladder. At this point we may ask if chance, or Fortuna in ancient
tragedy, aids Iago in his plot. Surely, Desdemona’s handkerchief falls at just the right moment for
Emilia to snatch it and Bianca fortuitously joins Cassio with the handkerchief while Othello
watches. While Othello sees Bianca with the handkerchief we cannot but feel that the plot now has
become irretrievable. However, we should remember that Othello is already convinced at this point
of Desdemona’s infidelity. Hadn’t Desdemona dropped her handkerchief, do we believe that
tragedy would have be avoided? Wouldn’t Iago’s improvised cunning coupled with Othello’s
nature have brought catastrophe to fruition via a different avenue? Indeed, although the
handkerchief drops by chance, I believe the action is so advanced at this point that the handkerchief
merely accelerates a foregone conclusion. Thus, chance, in Othello, does not set the course of
events as we often see in ancient tragedy; rather, it falls within the bounds of the plot’s trajectory
already mapped out by the characters’ actions – Iago’s actions.
After Othello confronts Desdemona in want of the handkerchief, the plot unfolds without
any further assistance from Iago. Iago is no longer at the helm of his plot. Instead of riding in
control, he is now dragged behind, caught in the web he has spun. Finally, it is Emilia who exposes
Iago to all. Ironically, the one place where he ought to have been in control the most – his marriage
– is where he is found blind (Bloom, 1998). Thus, Iago also experiences a recognition of the
limitations of his abilities as he freefalls down the tuche ladder he worked so hard to ascend.
Although chance and the divine as they are found in ancient tragedy are not found in Othello, I
believe Iago’s fall reflects in its own way the tragic fact of man’s helplessness; for even Iago,
perhaps the character closest to a force of nature we witness in any play, falls prey to the
unexpected vicissitudes of things beyond his control. Precisely because he is in complete control
throughout the play, his fall accentuates one’s inability, no matter how skillful, to have complete
authority over one’s destiny. Iago’s recognition can also be seen as metaphysical in nature; for
although he doesn’t perceive a force more powerful than his, he recognizes the limitations of what
he believed to be his omnipotence. In this sense, Othello is no less Iago’s tragedy than Othello’s
and ultimately ours too.

Desdemona
Desdemona doesn’t fare well in many literary circles. She is often branded a “simpleton”, Auden
sees her love for Othello as a “romantic crush of a silly schoolgirl rather than a mature affection”
(Auden, 1971, p. 219). Yet in one reading of Desdemona, she can be said to embody the conviction
and fatefulness of Eros.
A conflict arises when Barbantio accuses Othello of bewitching the sought-after
Desdemona. Othello claims that Desdemona loves him yet only when Desdemona enters the scene,
proclaiming her love for Othello before the Senate does the conflict subside. The power of
Desdemona’s love serves as an overarching framework that determines which moral and ethical
practices to use and it stands as the difference between Othello as a usurper and Othello as a just
suiter (Tedesco, 2013). Eros impels her to act beyond what is expected of her and it serves as a
conciliatory force in the arising conflict. She says: “I saw Othello’s visage in his mind, and to his
honors, and his valiant parts, did I my soul and fortunes consecrate” (1.3.248-50). She doesn’t use
the word “consecrate” idly. Love to her is a sacrament, one that ultimately leads her unto her death
(Terry, 1988).
Whereas in the aforementioned instance her Eros compels her to action; later, it renders
her passive and defenseless. After she is brutally assaulted by Othello, in a scene that fills us with
distress, Emilia reflects that it would have been better had she never met Othello, but Desdemona
rejects this idea, saying that Othello seems noble and graceful to her, even in his rebukes. In her
final conversation with Emilia, she remains adamant that she would never dream of cuckolding
Othello and that her loyalty remains absolute. Following this dialogue, she asks Emilia to properly
arrange her sheets, signaling she accepts the fate prescribed by her undaunted loyalty. Upon her
deathbed, Emilia asks her who has killed her; she replies: “Nobody; I myself. Farewell. Commend
me to my kind lord” (5.2.145), dying in chivalry. Thus, she comes across not as a “simpleton” but
as a saint, a martyr who suffers and dies for her absolute love. Desdemona’s suffering is immense
yet she faces it with saintly composure, fueled by unyielding Eros. In this reading of her, we feel
the utmost pity and admiration for her even; for she exhibits the most moral courage of all the
play’s characters, all in the name of love.

Conclusion
On the surface, Othello harbors many elements of ancient tragedy. All the main characters in the
play are displaced from their initial position upon the tuche scale. Othello and Desdemona fall
from eutuchia to dustuchia whereas Iago starts from dustuchia, works his way up to eutuchia only
to sink further into dustuchia. Their displacement is accompanied by immense suffering, especially
for Othello and Desdemona. Witnessing their suffering, we are flooded with alternating waves of
pity, awe, terror, and fear. In the end, we mourn the terrible “human waste” as Bradley calls it and
ask ourselves what message can be salvaged from all the destruction we have witnessed? Bradley
claims that “Othello is a story of intrigue rather than a visionary statement” (Bradley, 1904, p.
185). I wish to challenge Bradley on this statement. True, Othello is a story of intrigue; but it is an
intrigue that ultimately implodes into itself. Iago, the diabolic puppet-master, cannot maintain
control of all the strings at play, finding himself entangled in his own plot. Othello’s visionary
statement can thus be said to reflect the fundamental impotence of man to control his destiny with
his actions. For Shakespeare, this impotence stems not from chance or the divine, but from the
complex chain of cause-and-effect that no man, not even Iago, can possibly infer. To foresee the
future repercussions of any actions is an impossibility as they often bring about their opposite
intentions. Othello’s world is secular and fundamentally causative. This causality is so
impenetrable though that none of us can glimpse it beforehand and few can do so in hindsight.
This, I believe, is Othello’s ultimate tragic fact.

Bibliography
Primary Sources
-Shakespeare, W. (1984). Othello (N. Sanders, Eds.). Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press.
Secondary Material
- Auden, W. H. (1971). The Joker in the Pack. In. J. Wain (Ed.), Shakespeare: Othello (pp.
69-71). London: MacMillan.
-Bloom, H. (1987). Introduction. In. H. Bloom (Ed.), William Shakespeare’s Othello. (pp.
1-6). New York: Chelsea House Publishers.
-Bloom, H. (1998). Othello. In. Shakespeare: The Invention of the Human. London: Fourth
Estate.
-Bradley, A. C. (1904). Lectures I, V, VI. In. On Shakespearean Tragedy. London:
MacMillan and Co.
-Eliot, T. S. (1971). From ‘Shakespeare and the Stoicism of Seneca’. In. J. Wain (Ed.),
Shakespeare: Othello (pp. 69-71). London: MacMillan.
-Foote, S. (1988). From A Treatise on the Passions. In. S. Snyder (Ed.), Othello Critical
Essays (pp. 3-8). New York: Garland Publishing.
-Gronbeck-Tedesco, J. (2013). Morality, Ethics and the Failure of Love. In. Shakespeare’s
Othello. Othello: New Critical Essays, (pp. 255-70).
-Leavis, F. R. (1971). Diabolic Intellect and the Noble Hero. In. J. Wain (Ed.),
Shakespeare: Othello (pp. 105-127). London: MacMillan.
-Rinon, Y. (2008). Homer and the Dual Model of the Tragic. Michigan: University of
Michigan Press
-Terry, E. (1988). Desdemona. In. S. Snyder (Ed.), Othello Critical Essays (pp. 61-68).
New York: Garland Publishing.

Você também pode gostar