Shakespeare was not a Greek tragedy fanatic. Earl Showerman, an author of the Shakespeare Oxford Fellowship, claims that although a “bleak truth”, “Shakespeare almost certainly never read Sophocles or Euripides (let alone the much more difficult Aeschylus) in Greek”[1]. Scholars feel confident that Shakespeare’s lack of “characters or episodes of Greek drama […] [nor] conception of mythology” is strong enough evidence that Shakespeare was not directly inspired by Greek tragedy. Despite this, many of Shakespeare’s tragedies feel reminiscent of the Greek dramas; some Shakespearean scholars, including Jan Kott and Louise Schleiner, have noted similarities between Aeschylus’ Agammemnon and Shakespeare’s Macbeth and even Aeschylus’ Oresteia and Shakespeare’s Hamlet[2]. Additionally, similar themes can be traced between these 6th century BC and 17th century CE plays, whether it be fate, betrayal, suicide, or shame. Shakespeare’s Othello and Euripides’ Hippolytus are both guided by shame. In fact, the main women in each play die as a result of how shame is treated (and even avoided). The two women, Phaedra (Hippolytus) and Desdemona (Othello), can be used to further understand and highlight one another.
This paper will explore how both Desdemona and Phaedra commit or frame their deaths as suicide. Their “suicides” reflect a commitment to the spousal role of avoiding shame and betrayal. Ultimately, however, this paper will examine how their attempts to evade shame are the primary causality of each drama’s tragedy. These two women’s parallel actions further our ability to understand how shame has manipulated tragedy over the last two millennia.
Phaedra’s suicide is her ultimate declaration of loyalty. In her family, the most conceivably shameful act is betrayal and lust. In fact, in Christopher Gill’s article “The Articulation of the Self in Euripides’ Hippolytus”, Gill quotes Hippolytus: “Let someone teach women to be sophron or allow me to go on trampling them down forever”, Gill then explains: “By sophronein, Hippolytus seems to mean ‘to be chaste’, or perhaps better ‘virtuous’”[3]. After further examination, soprhonein not only means chaste and virtuous, but also of “sane mind.” To act out of lust and impulsivity is unsound and against familial expectation. Thus, for an individual such as Phaedra, to remain sophronein is not only a personal objective, but one she must maintain for her family, and in particular, her spouse Theseus. To act upon her lust for Hippolytus, not only destroys Phaedra, but Theseus too. Phaedra references this obligation as a spouse to the nurse; she yells: “I’ll not, to preserve one life, bring shame to my Cretan home nor face Theseus under the cloud of my disgraceful acts”[4]. The bottom line: Phaedra has determined that her life is worth the evasion of shame. It is true, part of Phaedra’s speech reflects a fear of the repercussions that come with betrayal; yet care and loyalty are laced in her words. In a separate interaction with the nurse, the nurse asks Phaedra: “What could be worse than failing to reach you?”, to which Phaedra replies: “Your ruin.” The nurse then reflects: “That’s why you hide it”[5]. This encounter illustrates a larger trend: Phaedra fears other’s ruin. More importantly, she cannot bear the idea of causing others’ (specifically, Theseus’) ruin through a shameful act. As Phaedra tells the audience: “Damnation take the woman who first began to besmirch her marriage bed with other men!”[6] Or in this context, “I refuse to submit to my lust and publicly shame my spouse.” Thus, Phaedra’s suicide is more than just an act of self-preservation. Yes, she is unwilling to betray her values, but more notably, she is unwilling to betray her spouse. Her suicide is the peak of her spousal hood, ultimately determining that her life is not worth the fated shame.
Othello’s Desdemona does not commit suicide, yet she frames her death as one. Desdemona, like Phaedra, is a dedicated spouse. She is obedient and dedicates her life to Othello. Multiple times throughout the drama, she iterates offhandedly: “Whate’er you be, I am obedient”[7]. Desdemona’s obedience is part of her role as a spouse. Silence and obedience are almost synonymous for her; in Eamon Grennan’s article “The Women’s Voices in ‘Othello’: Speech, Song, Silence”, Grennan describes a moment in which Othello “brusquely silences [Desdemona] […] with a perfunctory ‘Go, leave me’ (1. 320).” Grennan characterizes Desdemona’s silent departure as “a sign of her servitude”[8]. Thus, Desdemona's identity as a wife is wrapped up in serving Othello. Shakespeare goes to great lengths to show that Desdemona’s devotion is not only something she pursues publicly, but also privately. In a private bedroom conversation between Emilia and Desdemona, Desdemona asks Emilia about extramarital affairs: “Tell me, Emilia – That there be women do abuse their husbands in such gross kind?”[9]. Emilia then asks: “Wouldst thou [commit adultery] for all the world?”, to which Desdemona responds: “No, by this heavenly light!”[10]. Desdemona is portrayed as being naïve -- she cannot fathom the idea of being less devoted to Othello (or any other woman, for that matter). To bring shame upon him would be the ultimate betrayal of spousal hood. Thus, Desdemona would never betray Othello let alone allow him to live a life of shame because of her murder. This devotion culminates at Desdemona’s death. Othello smothers Desdemona, and despite this, under her dying breath, she tells a witness that nobody killed her: “Nobody; I myself [have done this deed]”[11]. Her claim to suicide, shielding Othello from wrath and societal ostracization, is her final spousal act. This is much like Phaedra’s suicide; both women decide that their livelihoods can be destroyed and shaped for their husband’s benefit. For Phaedra, that means protecting Theseus from her lustful desires. For Desdemona, that means protecting Othello from himself.
Despite acting selflessly on behalf of their partners, both women’s actions lead to each tragedy’s fundamental shame: wrongful death. Phaedra’ suicide is not without error; to provide an explanation for her suicide, she falsely accuses Hippolytus of raping her. In doing so, she avoids shame for herself and Theseus but not Hippolytus. Theseus reacts impulsively, exiling his son using torturous methods that lead to his death. It is thus poorly timed when Artemis comes on stage and tells the audience (and Theseus): “I came, to make plain that your son’s heart is guiltless so that he may die with a good name, make plain, too, the maddened frenzy of your wife, or if I may call it so, her nobility”[12]. This was not part of Phaedra’s plan, but it is a direct consequence of it. Phaedra and Hippolytus are now both dead, and Theseus is left to contemplate their absences. What does this mean for Theseus? It means his entire existence now revolves around regret and shame. Shame is a “consciousness of personal inadequacy or unworthiness, a sense of falling short of standards imposed by the self or others”[13]. And, in this context, Theseus is forced to reckon with the standards of being a father, of being a leader, of being a rational decision maker. He has not met any of these expectations and tells the audience: “I wish I were the one dying, not you […] The gods deluded me; my judgement failed”[14]. Phaedra has unintentionally caused a life of shame and sorrow for Theseus. Despite her ultimate sacrifice, Theseus is fated to live a life of shame and doom. It was destined, whether through extramarital affairs and lust, or through impulsive murder and revenge.
Desdemona’s proclamation of suicide sends Othello down a drain of shame. Othello already feels despair as a result of murdering his wife; in fact, in Ewan Fernie’s article “Shame in ‘Othello’”, Fernie characterizes how and why Othello smothers Desdemona: “He kills her by covering her up, and talks of putting out the light, partly because he sees her as the exposed part of himself”[15]. This pre-existing shame alongside Desdemona’s never-ending obedience cuts deep. Desdemona never broke character: she remained the ever-loving spouse determined to protect Othello from shame. This realization, along with her innocence, catalyzes into Othello’s shame and consequent suicide. Regretful of his actions, Othello yells to the audience: “Whip me, ye devils […] Blow me about in winds! Roast me in sulphur! Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire! O Desdemona! Desdemona! Dead! Oh! Oh! Oh!”[16]. He continues: “O fool! Fool! Fool!”[17]. O fool, which sounds and reads linguistically like “O thello", illustrates Othello’s deep grief and shame over his actions. His own fear of shame, of being humiliated by betrayal, caused him to act in a shameful manner. That is the irony and the tragedy here. “He has disgraced himself far more absolutely than if Desdemona had really betrayed him” as Ewan Fernie puts it[18]. Perhaps the most painful part of Desdemona’s death is her decision to protect Othello through it. Though Othello confesses, her obedience and strife to protect Othello, only worsens the pain of shame. His wife never disobeyed him, not even when he murdered her. Thus, we see both Phaedra and Desdemona’s deaths as catalysts for greater shame throughout the dramas. Though unintended, the fear of shame is exactly what exacerbates its presence.
The tragedy of both Othello and Hippolytus lie in each family’s treatment and silence of shame. The deaths in both tragedies, whether Desdemona, Emilia, and Othello, or Hippolytus and Phaedra, result from communicable issues. These issues are so ingrained as shameful, that they are hidden. It is the act of hiding that stimulates further shame throughout the dramas. Perhaps this is a comment on fate in each play; the tragedy itself is so easily avoided yet is ultimately inevitable. Or, more culturally, these tragedies may be aimed at humiliating these aristocrats. Their convoluted understanding of right and wrong, obedience and disobedience, wreak death and chaos. Alas, Othello and Hippolytus might make the commoner snicker as they witness the avoidable occur because of the aristocrat’s twisted view of shame.
Bibliography
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Euripides, Women and Sexuality. Abingdon, Oxon: Taylor and Francis, 2003.
Fernie, Ewan. "Shame in 'Othello.'" The Cambridge Quarterly 28, no. 1 (1999): 19-45. http://www.jstor.org/stable/42967948.
Grennan, Eamon. "The Women's Voices in 'Othello': Speech, Song, Silence." Shakespeare Quarterly 38, no. 3 (1987): 275-92. https://doi.org/10.2307/2870503.
Lefkowitz, Mary R., James S. Romm, Aeschylus., Sophocles., and Euripides. The Greek Plays: Sixteen Plays by Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides. New York: Modern Library, 2017.
Shakespeare, William. Shakespeare's Works. The Savoy ed. London, Great Britain: Eyre and Spottiswoode, n.d.
Showerman, Earl. "The Rediscovery of Shakespeare's Greater Greek." Shakespeare Oxford Fellowship. Last modified 2015. Accessed November 4, 2021. https://shakespeareoxfordfellowship.org/rediscovery-shakespeares-greater-greek/.
[1] Earl Showerman, "The Rediscovery of Shakespeare's Greater Greek," Shakespeare Oxford Fellowship, last modified 2015, accessed November 4, 2021, https://shakespeareoxfordfellowship.org/rediscovery-shakespeares-greater-greek/.
[2] Showerman, "The Rediscovery," Shakespeare Oxford Fellowship.
[3] Euripides, Women and Sexuality (Abingdon, Oxon: Taylor and Francis, 2003), 81.
[4] Mary R. Lefkowitz et al., The Greek Plays: Sixteen Plays by Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides (New York: Modern Library, 2017), 561.
[5] Lefkowitz et al., The Greek, 549.
[6] Euripides. and David Kovacs, Children of Heracles: Hippolytus ; Andromache ; Hecuba, reprinted with revisions and corrections. ed. (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2005), 165.
[7] William Shakespeare, Shakespeare's Works, the savoy ed. (London, Great Britain: Eyre and Spottiswoode, n.d.), 907.
[8] Eamon Grennan, "The Women's Voices in 'Othello': Speech, Song, Silence," Shakespeare Quarterly 38, no. 3 (1987): 284, https://doi.org/10.2307/2870503.
[9] Shakespeare, Shakespeare's Works, 918.
[10] Shakespeare, Shakespeare's Works, 918.
[11] Shakespeare, Shakespeare's Works, 921.
[12] Euripides. and Kovacs, Children of Heracles, 245.
[13] Ewan Fernie, "Shame in 'Othello,'" The Cambridge Quarterly 28, no. 1 (1999): 19, http://www.jstor.org/stable/42967948.
[14] Lefkowitz et al., The Greek, 581.
[15] Ewan Fernie, "Shame in 'Othello,'" The Cambridge Quarterly 28, no. 1 (1999): 40, http://www.jstor.org/stable/42967948.
[16] Shakespeare, Shakespeare's Works, 922.
[17] Shakespeare, Shakespeare's Works, 923.
[18] Fernie, "Shame in 'Othello,'" 40.