Othello and Nature's Fury

As I was walking through a small grove of trees today (July 4, 2004) on the campus of Western Oregon University (WOU) in Monmouth, Oregon, I chanced upon a small plaque in front of a downed trunk of an older tree. The plaque said that this fallen timber was the only remant of the original grove planted in the 1860s, when Oregon was young and when a predecessor (denominational) college stood on the site where WOU now stands. The grove had been destroyed by the massive Columbus day storm in Oregon, October 12, 1962. Nature's fury on that day toppled steeples and buildings, uprooted century-old trees, and forever changed the landscape of the Willamette Valley. But, as I mused on the small plaque, I saw in its few words the way that words both try to explain and take away the fearfully destructive power of nature. The blustery storm is now replaced by the soundless plaque; the vertical tree by the horizontal trunk. The wordsmith, however, has the last word.

Shakespeare on the Storm (2.1)

Act II opens with terrifying storm on the Mediterranean. A gentleman engage in conversation with Montano, Governor of Cyprus, describes it as follows:

"For do but stand upon the foaming shore,/ The chidden billow seems to pelt the clouds,/ The wind-shak'd surge, with high and monstrous mane,/ Seems to cast water on the burning Bear,/ And quench the guards of th' ever-fixed Pole; I never did like molestation view/ On the enchafed flood (2.1.11-17)."

The language is exquisite and frightening. Waves mount toward the heavens; they throw off their surge seemingly to the stars. As an earlier observer said, concerning boats in such a storm, "What ribs of oak, when mountains melt on them,/ Can hold the mortise (2.1.8-9)?" So, we see mountains of water crashing down on boats, flung spray and blown spume exploding in the sky, white caps so high that they appear like the mane of a huge, raging animal.

The Psalmist on Nature's Fury on the Waters

Shakespeare's description is surprisingly reminiscent of the Psalmist's account of those who go "down to the see in ships (Ps. 107:23)." Here is how their experience is described:

"They saw the deeds of the Lord, his wondrous works in the deep./ For he commanded, and raised the stormy wind, which lifted up the waves of the sea./ They mounted up to heaven, they went down to the depths, their courage melted away in their evil plight,/ they reeled and staggered like drunken men, and were at their wits' end (Ps. 107:24-27)."

The storm is sandwiched by distinctives of the religious tradition of Israel: God commanded the waves and, in their distress, the sailors called upon God. Yet the urgency and power of the language is evident. The terrors of the sea frightened the sailors so they despaired of life itself. They staggered and reeled; their swagger and courage disappeared; they cried to God in their distress.

And then, switching back to Shakespeare, when Othello safely comes ashore and disembarks, he speaks of the calm that the reader and play-watcher can feel as well as see. "O my soul's joy!/ If after every tempest come such calms,.... (2.1.184-185)." The Bible says the same. After they cried to the Lord in their distress, the Lord heard them and saved them. "He made the storm be still, and the waves of the sea were hushed. Then they were glad because they had quiet, and he brought them to their desired haven (Ps. 107:28-30)."

Conclusion

The brilliance of Shakespeare's and the Bible's language both brings us into the deafening and ominous power of the storm and then disarms that same storm. The last word belongs not to nature, but to the poet. In the one instance the Turkish fleet is destroyed; in another case the sailors reach their desired haven. We readers can then jump onto the threatened barks, rise up to heaven on the waves, crash down to the deepest hells between the whitecaps, and do so with the assurance that the poet will save us and bring us to our desired port. If we read the text closely, we are both threatened and saved by the poet, who creates the storm, takes us through it and leaves us safe on shore, even if the Turkish fleet is destroyed.