| 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.
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.
He had been a traveller, 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 travellers' 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.
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.
Neither Othello's colour nor his fortune
were 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 ere long 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 colour, 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.
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.
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 defence 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 offences which by the laws of Venice were made capital.
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 defence, 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.
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.
The old senator, unable to maintain his
plea, ca e 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 behaviour of Desdemona would have taught him to be a
tyrant, and hang clogs on them for her desertion.
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 honour 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.
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.
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, favourite 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,
an 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
honour 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 behaviour 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.
Othello had lately promoted Cassio to be
the lieutenant, a place of trust, and nearest to the general's person.
This promotion gave great offence 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 favouring 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 both Cassio, the Moor, and
Desdemona, in one common ruin.
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.
The arrival of the general and his lady,
in Cyprus, meeting with the news of the dispersion of the enemy's fleet,
made a sort of holiday in the island. Everybody gave themselves 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.
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 colour 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. Cassio was now come to
himself, the effect of the wine having a little gone off, but was too
much ashamed to reply; and lago, 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 offence 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.
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.
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
favour; 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.
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 offence
did not deserve so sharp a check. And when Othello still hung back:
'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.' 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 favour.
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 afterwards. 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. '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. '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.' 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 observe her behaviour 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 countrywomen, 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?
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
judgement 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 meanwhile 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.
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 ardour 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. 'That same handkerchief,' said Iago, 'did I see
Michael Cassio this day wipe his face with.' '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.'
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 offence 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
pretence 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.
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. 'Not this,' said Othello, 'but that handkerchief I gave you.'
Desdemona had it not about her (for indeed it was stolen, as we have
related). '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.' 'It is possible?'
said the frighted lady. '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.'
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.
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 muddled 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.
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 weight-like 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.
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.
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 bed-clothes, stifled her till she died.
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
himself 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.
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.
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 he 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. |