<h2><SPAN name="chap19"></SPAN>OTHELLO</h2>
<p>Brabantio, the rich senator of Venice, had a fair daughter, the gentle
Desdemona. She was sought to by divers suitors, both on account of her
many virtuous qualities and for her rich expectations. But among the
suitors of her own clime and complexion she saw none whom she could
affect, for this noble lady, who regarded the mind more than the features
of men, with a singularity rather to be admired than imitated had chosen
for the object of her affections a Moor, a black, whom her father loved
and often invited to his house.</p>
<p>Neither is Desdemona to be altogether condemned for the unsuitableness of
the person whom she selected for her lover. Bating that Othello was black,
the noble Moor wanted nothing which might recommend him to the affections
of the greatest lady. He was a soldier, and a brave one; and by his
conduct in bloody wars against the Turks had risen to the rank of general
in the Venetian service, and was esteemed and trusted by the state.</p>
<p>He had been a traveler, and Desdemona (as is the manner of ladies) loved
to hear him tell the story of his adventures, which he would run through
from his earliest recollection; the battles, sieges, and encounters which
he had passed through; the perils he had been exposed to by land and by
water; his hair-breadth escapes, when he had entered a breach or marched
up to the mouth of a cannon; and how he had been taken prisoner by the
insolent enemy, and sold to slavery; how he demeaned himself in that
state, and how he escaped: all these accounts, added to the narration of
the strange things he had seen in foreign countries, the vast wilderness
and romantic caverns, the quarries, the rocks and mountains whose heads
are in the clouds; of the savage nations, the cannibals who are
man-eaters, and a race of people in Africa whose heads do grow beneath
their shoulders. These travelers’ stories would so enchain the
attention of Desdemona that if she were called off at any time by
household affairs she would despatch with all haste that business, and
return, and with a greedy ear devour Othello’s discourse. And once
he took advantage of a pliant hour and drew from her a prayer that he
would tell her the whole story of his life at large, of which she had
heard so much, but only by parts. To which he consented, and beguiled her
of many a tear when he spoke of some distressful stroke which his youth
had suffered.</p>
<p>His story being done, she gave him for his pains a world of sighs. She
swore a pretty oath that it was all passing strange, and pitiful, wondrous
pitiful. She wished (she said) she had not heard it, yet she wished that
Heaven had made her such a man; and then she thanked him, and told him, if
he had a friend who loved her, he had only to teach him how to tell his
story and that would woo her. Upon this hint, delivered not with more
frankness than modesty, accompanied with certain bewitching prettiness and
blushes, which Othello could not but understand, he spoke more openly of
his love, and in this golden opportunity gained the consent of the
generous Lady Desdemona privately to marry him.</p>
<p>Neither Othello’s color nor his fortune was such that it could be
hoped Brabantio would accept him for a son-in-law. He had left his
daughter free; but he did expect that, as the manner of noble Venetian
ladies was, she would choose erelong a husband of senatorial rank or
expectations; but in this he was deceived. Desdemona loved the Moor,
though he was black, and devoted her heart and fortunes to his valiant
parts and qualities. So was her heart subdued to an implicit devotion to
the man she had selected for a husband that his very color, which to all
but this discerning lady would have proved an insurmountable objection,
was by her esteemed above all the white skins and clear complexions of the
young Venetian nobility, her suitors.</p>
<p>Their marriage, which, though privately carried, could not long be kept a
secret, came to the ears of the old man, Brabantio, who appeared in a
solemn council of the senate as an accuser of the Moor Othello, who by
spells and witchcraft (he maintained) had seduced the affections of the
fair Desdemona to marry him, without the consent of her father, and
against the obligations of hospitality.</p>
<p>At this juncture of time it happened that the state of Venice had
immediate need of the services of Othello, news having arrived that the
Turks with mighty preparation had fitted out a fleet, which was bending
its course to the island of Cyprus, with intent to regain that strong post
from the Venetians, who then held it; in this emergency the state turned
its eyes upon Othello, who alone was deemed adequate to conduct the
defense of Cyprus against the Turks. So that Othello, now summoned before
the senate, stood in their presence at once as a candidate for a great
state employment and as a culprit charged with offenses which by the laws
of Venice were made capital.</p>
<p>The age and senatorial character of old Brabantio commanded a most patient
hearing from that grave assembly; but the incensed father conducted his
accusation with so much intemperance, producing likelihoods and
allegations for proofs, that, when Othello was called upon for his
defense, he had only to relate a plain tale of the course of his love;
which he did with such an artless eloquence, recounting the whole story of
his wooing as we have related it above, and delivered his speech with so
noble a plainness (the evidence of truth) that the duke, who sat as chief
judge, could not help confessing that a tale so told would have won his
daughter, too, and the spells and conjurations which Othello had used in
his courtship plainly appeared to have been no more than the honest arts
of men in love, and the only witchcraft which he had used the faculty of
telling a soft tale to win a lady’s ear.</p>
<p>This statement of Othello was confirmed by the testimony of the Lady
Desdemona herself, who appeared in court and, professing a duty to her
father for life and education, challenged leave of him to profess a yet
higher duty to her lord and husband, even so much as her mother had shown
in preferring him (Brabantio) above HER father.</p>
<p>The old senator, unable to maintain his plea, called the Moor to him with
many expressions of sorrow, and, as an act of necessity, bestowed upon him
his daughter, whom, if he had been free to withhold her (he told him), he
would with all his heart have kept from him; adding that he was glad at
soul that he had no other child, for this behavior of Desdemona would have
taught him to be a tyrant and hang clogs on them for her desertion.</p>
<p>This difficulty being got over, Othello, to whom custom had rendered the
hardships of a military life as natural as food and rest are to other men,
readily undertook the management of the wars in Cyprus; and Desdemona,
preferring the honor of her lord (though with danger) before the
indulgence of those idle delights in which new-married people usually
waste their time, cheerfully consented to his going.</p>
<p>No sooner were Othello and his lady landed in Cyprus than news arrived
that a desperate tempest had dispersed the Turkish fleet, and thus the
island was secure from any immediate apprehension of an attack. But the
war which Othello was to suffer was now beginning; and the enemies which
malice stirred up against his innocent lady proved in their nature more
deadly than strangers or infidels.</p>
<p>Among all the general’s friends no one possessed the confidence of
Othello more entirely than Cassio. Michael Cassio was a young soldier, a
Florentine, gay, amorous, and of pleasing address, favorite qualities with
women; he was handsome and eloquent, and exactly such a person as might
alarm the jealousy of a man advanced in years (as Othello in some measure
was) who had married a young and beautiful wife; but Othello was as free
from jealousy as he was noble, and as incapable of suspecting as of doing
a base action. He had employed this Cassio in his love affair with
Desdemona, and Cassio had been a sort of go-between in his suit; for
Othello, fearing that himself had not those soft parts of conversation
which please ladies, and finding these qualities in his friend, would
often depute Cassio to go (as he phrased it) a-courting for him, such
innocent simplicity being rather an honor than a blemish to the character
of the valiant Moor. So that no wonder if, next to Othello himself (but at
far distance, as beseems a virtuous wife), the gentle Desdemona loved and
trusted Cassio. Nor had the marriage of this couple made any difference in
their behavior to Michael Cassio. He frequented their house, and his free
and rattling talk was no unpleasing variety to Othello, who was himself of
a more serious temper; for such tempers are observed often to delight in
their contraries, as a relief from the oppressive excess of their own; and
Desdemona and Cassio would talk and laugh together, as in the days when he
went a-courting for his friend.</p>
<p>Othello had lately promoted Cassio to be the lieutenant, a place of trust,
and nearest to the general’s person. This promotion gave great
offense to Iago, an older officer who thought he had a better claim than
Cassio, and would often ridicule Cassio as a fellow fit only for the
company of ladies and one that knew no more of the art of war or how to
set an army in array for battle than a girl. Iago hated Cassio, and he
hated Othello as well for favoring Cassio as for an unjust suspicion,
which he had lightly taken up against Othello, that the Moor was too fond
of Iago’s wife Emilia. From these imaginary provocations the
plotting mind of Iago conceived a horrid scheme of revenge, which should
involve Cassio, the Moor, and Desdemona in one common ruin.</p>
<p>Iago was artful, and had studied human nature deeply, and he knew that of
all the torments which afflict the mind of man (and far beyond bodily
torture) the pains of jealousy were the most intolerable and had the
sorest sting. If he could succeed in making Othello jealous of Cassio he
thought it would be an exquisite plot of revenge and might end in the
death of Cassio or Othello, or both; he cared not.</p>
<p>The arrival of the general and his lady in Cyprus, meeting with news of
the dispersion of the enemy’s fleet, made a sort of holiday in the
island. Everybody gave himself up to feasting and making merry. Wine
flowed in abundance, and cups went round to the health of the black
Othello and his lady the fair Desdemona.</p>
<p>Cassio had the direction of the guard that night, with a charge from
Othello to keep the soldiers from excess in drinking, that no brawl might
arise to fright the inhabitants or disgust them with the new-landed
forces. That night Iago began his deep-laid plans of mischief. Under color
of loyalty and love to the general, he enticed Cassio to make rather too
free with the bottle (a great fault in an officer upon guard). Cassio for
a time resisted, but he could not long hold out against the honest freedom
which Iago knew how to put on, but kept swallowing glass after glass (as
Iago still plied him with drink and encouraging songs), and Cassio’s
tongue ran over in praise of the Lady Desdemona, whom he again and again
toasted, affirming that she was a most exquisite lady. Until at last the
enemy which he put into his mouth stole away his brains; and upon some
provocation given him by a fellow whom Iago had set on, swords were drawn,
and Montano, a worthy officer, who interfered to appease the dispute, was
wounded in the scuffle. The riot now began to be general, and Iago, who
had set on foot the mischief, was foremost in spreading the alarm, causing
the castle bell to be rung (as if some dangerous mutiny instead of a
slight drunken quarrel had arisen). The alarm-bell ringing awakened
Othello, who, dressing in a hurry and coming to the scene of action,
questioned Cassio of the cause.</p>
<p>Cassio was now come to himself, the effect of the wine having a little
gone off, but was too much ashamed to reply; and Iago, pretending a great
reluctance to accuse Cassio, but, as it were, forced into it by Othello,
who insisted to know the truth, gave an account of the whole matter
(leaving out his own share in it, which Cassio was too far gone to
remember) in such a manner as, while he seemed to make Cassio’s
offense less, did indeed make it appear greater than it was. The result
was that Othello, who was a strict observer of discipline, was compelled
to take away Cassio’s place of lieutenant from him.</p>
<p>Thus did Iago’s first artifice succeed completely; he had now
undermined his hated rival and thrust him,out of his place; but a further
use was hereafter to be made of the adventure of this disastrous night.</p>
<p>Cassio, whom this misfortune had entirely sobered, now lamented to his
seeming friend Iago that he should have been such a fool as to transform
himself into a beast. He was undone, for how could he ask the general for
his place again? He would tell him he was a drunkard. He despised himself.
Iago, affecting to make light of it, said that he, or any man living,
might be drunk upon occasion; it remained now to make the best of a bad
bargain. The general’s wife was now the general, and could do
anything with Othello; that he were best to apply to the Lady Desdemona to
mediate for him with her lord; that she was of a frank, obliging
disposition and would readily undertake a good office of this sort and set
Cassio right again in the general’s favor; and then this crack in
their love would be made stronger than ever. A good advice of Iago, if it
had not been given for wicked purposes, which will after appear.</p>
<p>Cassio did as Iago advised him, and made application to the Lady
Desdemona, who was easy to be won over in any honest suit; and she
promised Cassio that she should be his solicitor with her lord, and rather
die than give up his cause. This she immediately set about in so earnest
and pretty a manner that Othello, who was mortally offended with Cassio,
could not put her off. When he pleaded delay, and that it was too soon to
pardon such an offender, she would not be beat back, but insisted that it
should be the next night, or the morning after, or the next morning to
that at farthest. Then she showed how penitent and humbled poor Cassio
was, and that his offense did not deserve so sharp a check. And when
Othello still hung back:</p>
<p>“What! my lord,” said she, “that I should have so much
to do to plead for Cassio, Michael Cassio, that came a-courting for you,
and oftentimes, when I have spoken in dispraise of you has taken your
part! I count this but a little thing to ask of you. When I mean to try
your love indeed I shall ask a weighty matter.”</p>
<p>Othello could deny nothing to such a pleader, and only requesting that
Desdemona would leave the time to him, promised to receive Michael Cassio
again in favor.</p>
<p>It happened that Othello and Iago had entered into the room where
Desdemona was, just as Cassio, who had been imploring her intercession,
was departing at the opposite door; and Iago, who was full of art, said in
a low voice, as if to himself, “I like not that.” Othello took
no great notice of what he said; indeed, the conference which immediately
took place with his lady put it out of his head; but he remembered it
afterward. For when Desdemona was gone, Iago, as if for mere satisfaction
of his thought, questioned Othello whether Michael Cassio, when Othello
was courting his lady, knew of his love. To this the general answering in
the affirmative, and adding, that he had gone between them very often
during the courtship, Iago knitted his brow, as if he had got fresh light
on some terrible matter, and cried, “Indeed!” This brought
into Othello’s mind the words which Iago had let fall upon entering
the room and seeing Cassio with Desdemona; and he began to think there was
some meaning in all this, for he deemed Iago to be a just man, and full of
love and honesty, and what in a false knave would be tricks in him seemed
to be the natural workings of an honest mind, big with something too great
for utterance. And Othello prayed Iago to speak what he knew and to give
his worst thoughts words.</p>
<p>“And what,” said Iago, “if some thoughts very vile
should have intruded into my breast, as where is the palace into which
foul things do not enter?” Then Iago went on to say, what a pity it
were if any trouble should arise to Othello out of his imperfect
observations; that it would not be for Othello’s peace to know his
thoughts; that people’s good names were not to be taken away for
slight suspicions; and when Othello’s curiosity was raised almost to
distraction with these hints and scattered words, Iago, as if in earnest
care for Othello’s peace of mind, besought him to beware of
jealousy. With such art did this villain raise suspicions in the unguarded
Othello, by the very caution which he pretended to give him against
suspicion.</p>
<p>“I know,” said Othello, “that my wife is fair, loves
company and feasting, is free of speech, sings, plays, and dances well;
but where virtue is, these qualities are virtuous. I must have proof
before I think her dishonest.”</p>
<p>Then Iago, as if glad that Othello was slow to believe ill of his lady,
frankly declared that he had no proof, but begged Othello to see her
behavior well, when Cassio was by; not to be jealous nor too secure
neither, for that he (Iago) knew the dispositions of the Italian ladies,
his country-women, better than Othello could do; and that in Venice the
wives let Heaven see many pranks they dared not show their husbands. Then
he artfully insinuated that Desdemona deceived her father in marrying with
Othello, and carried it so closely that the poor old man thought that
witchcraft had been used. Othello was much moved with this argument, which
brought the matter home to him, for if she had deceived her father why
might she not deceive her husband?</p>
<p>Iago begged pardon for having moved him; but Othello, assuming an
indifference, while he was really shaken with inward grief at Iago’s
words, begged him to go on, which Iago did with many apologies, as if
unwilling to produce anything against Cassio, whom he called his friend.
He then came strongly to the point and reminded Othello how Desdemona had
refused many suitable matches of her own clime and complexion, and had
married him, a Moor, which showed unnatural in her and proved her to have
a headstrong will; and when her better judgment returned, how probable it
was she should fall upon comparing Othello with the fine forms and clear
white complexions of the young Italians her countrymen. He concluded with
advising Othello to put off his reconcilement with Cassio a little longer,
and in the mean while to note with what earnestness Desdemona should
intercede in his behalf; for that much would be seen in that. So
mischievously did this artful villain lay his plots to turn the gentle
qualities of this innocent lady into her destruction, and make a net for
her out of her own goodness to entrap her, first setting Cassio on to
entreat her mediation, and then out of that very mediation contriving
stratagems for her ruin.</p>
<p>The conference ended with Iago’s begging Othello to account his wife
innocent until he had more decisive proof; and Othello promised to be
patient; but from that moment the deceived Othello never tasted content of
mind. Poppy, nor the juice of mandragora, nor all the sleeping potions in
the world, could ever again restore to him that sweet rest which he had
enjoyed but yesterday. His occupation sickened upon him. He no longer took
delight in arms. His heart, that used to be roused at the sight of troops
and banners and battle array, and would stir and leap at the sound of a
drum or a trumpet or a neighing war-horse, seemed to have lost all that
pride and ambition which are a soldier’s virtue; and his military
ardor and all his old joys forsook him. Sometimes he thought his wife
honest, and at times he thought her not so; sometimes he thought Iago
just, and at times he thought him not so; then he would wish that he had
never known of it; he was not the worse for her loving Cassio, so long as
he knew it not. Torn to pieces with these distracting thoughts, he once
laid hold on Iago’s throat and demanded proof of Desdemona’s
guilt, or threatened instant death for his having belied her. Iago,
feigning indignation that his honesty should be taken for a vice, asked
Othello if he had not sometimes seen a handkerchief spotted with
strawberries in his wife’s hand. Othello answered that he had given
her such a one, and that it was his first gift.</p>
<p>“That same handkerchief,” said Iago, “did I see Michael
Cassio this day wipe his face with.”</p>
<p>“If it be as you say,” said Othello, “I will not rest
till a wide revenge swallow them up; and first, for a token of your
fidelity, I expect that Cassio shall be put to death within three days;
and for that fair devil [meaning his lady] I will withdraw and devise some
swift means of death for her.”</p>
<p>Trifles light as air are to the jealous proofs as strong as holy writ. A
handkerchief of his wife’s seen in Cassio’s hand was motive
enough to the deluded Othello to pass sentence of death upon them both,
without once inquiring how Cassio came by it. Desdemona had never given
such a present to Cassio, nor would this constant lady have wronged her
lord with doing so naughty a thing as giving his presents to another man;
both Cassio and, Desdemona were innocent of any offense against Othello;
but the wicked Iago, whose spirits never slept in contrivance of villainy,
had made his wife (a good, but a weak woman) steal this handkerchief from
Desdemona, under pretense of getting the work copied, but in reality to
drop it in Cassio’s way, where he might find it, and give a handle
to Iago’s suggestion that it was Desdemona’s present.</p>
<p>Othello, soon after meeting his wife, pretended that he had a headache (as
he might indeed with truth), and desired her to lend him her handkerchief
to hold to his temples. She did so.</p>
<p>“Not this,” said Othello, “but that handkerchief I gave
you.”</p>
<p>Desdemona had it not about her (for indeed it was stolen, as we have
related).</p>
<p>“How?” said Othello, “this is a fault indeed. That
handkerchief an Egyptian woman gave to my mother; the woman was a witch
and could read people’s thoughts. She told my mother while she kept
it it would make her amiable and my father would love her; but if she lost
it or gave it away, my father’s fancy would turn and he would loathe
her as much as he had loved her. She, dying, gave it to me, and bade me,
if I ever married, to give it to my wife. I did so. Take heed of it. Make
it a darling as precious as your eye.”</p>
<p>“Is it possible?” said the frighted lady.</p>
<p>“‘Tis true,” continued Othello; “it is a magical
handkerchief; a sibyl that had lived in the world two hundred years, in a
fit of prophetic fury worked it; the silkworms that furnished the silk
were hallowed, and it was dyed in a mummy of maidens’ hearts
conserved.”</p>
<p>Desdemona, hearing the wondrous virtues of the handkerchief, was ready to
die with fear, for she plainly perceived she had lost it, and with it, she
feared, the affections of her husband. Then Othello started and looked as
if he were going to do some rash thing, and still he demanded the
handkerchief, which when she could not produce, she tried to divert her
husband from too serious thoughts, and cheerfully told him she saw all his
talk about the handkerchief was only to put her off from her suit about
Michael Cassio, whom she went on to praise (as Iago had foretold), till
Othello in perfect distraction burst out of the room, and then Desdemona,
though unwillingly, began to suspect that her lord was jealous.</p>
<p>What cause she could have ministered to him she knew not, and then she
accused herself for accusing the noble Othello, and thought, to be sure,
that some untoward news from Venice or some state troubles had puddled his
spirits and made his temper not so sweet as formerly. And she said,
“Men are not gods, and we must not look for that observance from
them when they are married which they show us on the bridal day.”
And she beshrewed herself for so unkindly judging of his unkindness.</p>
<p>Again Othello and Desdemona met, and he accused her more plainly of being
unfaithful and of loving another man, but he did not name whom. And
Othello wept, and Desdemona said, “Alas! the heavy day! why do you
weep?” And Othello told her he could have borne all sorts of evils
with fortitude—poverty, and disease, and disgrace—but her
infidelity had broken his heart. And he called her a weed that looked so
fair and smelled so sweet that the sense ached at it; and wished she had
never been born. And when he had left her this innocent lady was so
stupefied with wonder at her lord’s untrue suspicion of her that a
weightlike sleep came over her, and she only desired her attendant to make
her bed and to lay her wedding-sheets upon it, saying that when people
teach their babes they do it by gentle means and easy tasks, and Othello
might have chid her so; for in good faith she was but a child when she was
chidden. And this was all the complaint which this gentle lady made.</p>
<p>Desdemona being retired to bed, expecting her lord would follow her, soon
fell into a slumber, the effect of her troubled spirits, when Othello
entered the chamber, full of the black purpose which he had meditated, of
putting his lady to death. But when he saw her asleep he thought he would
not shed her blood, nor scar that white skin of hers, more white than
alabaster. But he was resolved she should die, else (as he said) she would
live to betray, more men as she had done him. Then he kissed her for the
last time (as he said), and that kiss was so sweet that he must needs kiss
her again; and he wept, but he said they were cruel tears.</p>
<p>Desdemona was awakened with his kisses, and she looked upon Othello, and
she saw him gnaw his under lip and roll his eyes, and she knew he was
always fatal when he looked so; and he bade her prepare for death and to
say her prayers, for he would not kill her soul. And this innocent wife,
as she lay at his mercy, begged for compassion and to know her fault, and
then he named Cassio, and the handkerchief which (he said) she had given
him; and as the guiltless lady was proceeding to clear herself he suddenly
would hear no more, but, covering her up in the bedclothes, stifled her
till she died.</p>
<p>In this instant of time was brought into the house Cassio, wounded and
bleeding, whom Iago had set one of his creatures on to assassinate; but
the fellow not succeeding in his attempt to kill Cassio (whom he wounded,
but not mortally), and being him- self killed by Iago to prevent
discovery, in his pockets were found certain letters, which made the guilt
of Iago, and the innocence of Cassio, clear beyond all doubt; and Cassio
now came to beg pardon of Othello, and to ask wherein he had offended him,
that he had employed Iago to murder him.</p>
<p>This discovery was as a thunderstroke to Othello, who now plainly saw that
he was no better than a murderer, and that his wife (poor innocent lady)
had been ever faithful to him; the extreme anguish of which discovery
making life insupportable, he fell upon his sword, and throwing himself
upon the body of his dear injured lady, expired.</p>
<p>These rash acts raised much passion of horror and amazement in the
bystanders, for Othello had borne a fair reputation, and till he was
wrought upon by the arts of a villain, which his own noble nature never
gave him leave to suspect, he was a loving and a doting husband. He had
loved not wisely, but too well; and his manly eyes (when be learned his
mistake), though not used to weep on every small occasion, dropped tears
as fast as the Arabian trees their gum. And when he was dead all his
former merits and his valiant acts were remembered. Nothing now remained
for his successor but to put the utmost censure of the law in force
against Iago, who was executed with strict tortures; and to send word to
the state of Venice of the lamentable death of their renowned general.</p>
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