Another example of telescoped time can be found in 2.3 of Othello, which begins with Othello giving Cassio instructions for the evening's watch, and with Iago stating it is "not yet ten o' the clock." We then witness drinking and singing on the part of the soldiers - all of which is staged by Iago for the purpose of getting Cassio drunk and into a brawl with Roderigo, who is waiting offstage. When an awakened Othello intercedes, he listens to the accounts of the incident and admonishes and demotes Cassio on the spot. Iago then pretends to sympathize with Cassio, and suggests that he should present his case to Desdemona, who will, out of kindness, convince Othello to change his mind. Then follows a soliloquy by Iago during which he gives his real plan:

... whiles this honest fool

Plies Desdemona to repair his fortunes

And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor,

I'll pour this pestilence into his ear,

That she repeals him for her body's lust;

And by how much she strives to do him good,

She shall undo her credit with the Moor.

After this, Roderigo, who is both secretly in love with Desdemona and Iago's dupe, enters and is told to have patience and to go get some sleep, because "'tis morning''. The entire scene is usually performed in slightly less than twenty minutes.

Another principle that seems consistent throughout Shakespeare's work is that his main interest was rarely, perhaps never, to create plots simply for the purpose of realism. Rather, he used the stories to maximize the dramatic effect on both the audience and the characters. For example, Othello, at the beginning of the play, is the type of successful and respected military man who would never choose to show his inner workings and true emotions. But the plot doesn't give him any choice, and by the end of the story, all is revealed. One of the most powerful moments in 3.3, the scene where Othello is psychologically turned upside down by Iago, occurs when he realizes that his confidence and therefore his career are in the past:

O, now, for ever

Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content!

Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars,

That make ambition virtue! O, farewell!

Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump,

The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife,

The royal banner, and all quality,

Pride, pomp and circumstance of glorious war!

And, O you mortal engines, whose rude throats

The immortal Jove's dead clamours counterfeit,

Farewell! Othello's occupation's gone!

It's particularly remarkable for the fact that ordinarily we would never see a military professional admit that some aspects of war are enjoyed. But as Picasso once said, "Art is the lie that reveals the truth."

Here's another observation regarding Othello: The character of Roderigo is an extraordinary one. He's the chap that is so far gone in infatuation with Desdemona, that he allows himself to be utterly manipulated by Iago. Iago lies to him about everything, spends his money and ultimately convinces him to murder Cassio. He doesn't succeed, though. He merely wounds Cassio, and so Iago, having to cover his tracks, walks up and kills him. At which point Roderigo sees the truth of his life for the first time, albeit very briefly. But the really remarkable thing about the character is that Shakespeare was able to control his telling of the story carefully enough, so as to make Iago the only person that interacts with him in the play. Roderigo literally allows another person to shape his entire view of the world. I forget who said that "all a poet can do is warn", but this character is the best illustration of that thought possible. One must consider one's sources.

Further to yesterday's post on act three, scene three from Othello, it is interesting to juxtapose the powerful and complex figurative language that Othello uses to convey his murderous psychological state with the very simple line that ends the scene. Because, for me anyway, it contains the most frightening statement in Shakespeare. We'll have to go back for a moment before we get to it. At the play's opening, Iago tells Roderigo (and the audience) that his hatred for Iago comes from his having been passed over for a promotion (and if you think this doesn't sound plausible, either you haven't been in the working world for very long, or you've been very fortunate). The position of lieutenant to Othello was given to Michael Cassio instead, and so, Iago begins to formulate a plan to destroy both of them. At the end of 3.3, Iago has convinced Othello that his wife, Desdemona, has been having an affair with Cassio. But as Othello's rage grows, Iago pretends to hedge, and Othello speaks the passage discussed yesterday. Then Iago kneels down and swears an oath to help his "friend" in any way he can. So Othello asks him to kill Cassio. Here is the rest of the scene, including the aforementioned final line:

IAGO

My friend is dead; 'tis done at your request:

But let her live.

OTHELLO

Damn her, lewd minx! O, damn her!

Come, go with me apart; I will withdraw,

To furnish me with some swift means of death

For the fair devil. Now art thou my lieutenant.

IAGO

I am your own for ever.

Act 3, scene 3 of Othello, where Iago turns the title character from a happy man who loves his wife into a maniac with no thought but murder, is a technical tour de force. Its treatment of time has been written about and studied many times. Its psychological content, the way that a mind can be led a great distance with just a slight suggestion, is remarkable and unfortunately, very true-to-life. Today I'd like to look at one segment just for the power of its poetry. At this point, Iago's work is almost done: Othello is convinced his wife is unfaithful, and he wants revenge. Iago then pretends that he's trying to dissuade him from violence:

IAGO

Patience, I say; your mind perhaps may change.

OTHELLO

Never, Iago: Like to the Pontic sea,

Whose icy current and compulsive course

Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on

To the Propontic and the Hellespont,

Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace,

Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love,

Till that a capable and wide revenge

Swallow them up.

What fierce and frightening power this metaphor contains. It brings to mind Alfred Whitehead's axiom that "language should embody what it indicates". (More on this scene tomorrow.)