OTHELLO

A handsome Moor, named Othello, a man of noble nature and high intellect, had risen by his own ability and prowess to the envied position of a general in the Venetian Army; and because of his honourable reputation and excellent skill in relating stories of the battles and adventures he had engaged in, he was a welcome guest in many of the great houses of Venice.

But Othello himself cared only to visit at the house of a certain Venetian gentleman named Brabantio, who had a fair daughter named Desdemona; for the beauty, gentleness, and virtue of this lady had completely enslaved the heart of the handsome Moor, who grew to love her with all the strength of his passionate nature. And as the fair Desdemona listened to the glowing tales of peril, adventure, and victory related by the dusky visitor, she hung upon his words with eager interest, weeping for his woes and rejoicing at his escapes; and at last she grew to love him so dearly that all her thoughts became bound up in him.

Othello knew that Brabantio would be horrified at the mere thought of giving his daughter to a Moor; and so he very easily persuaded Desdemona to enter into a secret marriage with him.

Brabantio was filled with great indignation when he was afterwards told of their union, and, accusing Othello of having resorted to magic spells in winning the affections of the maiden, he took the whole matter before the Duke of Venice; but when the royal judge had listened to Othello's simple tale of love, and Desdemona's sweet declaration of trust in her husband, he announced that their mutual affection had come about in a perfectly natural way, and that no magic had been used.

So Brabantio was obliged to give his daughter to her lawful husband; and almost immediately after the case had been settled, Othello, as leader of the Venetian Army, was sent on a military expedition to the island of Cyprus.

The Moor departed first, leaving Desdemona to follow in the care of his lieutenant, Cassio; and upon their arrival in Cyprus great rejoicings were held.

Now, Othello had another confidential officer, whose name was Iago, and who served him as his Ancient; and this Iago, who was of an envious, cruel, and bitter nature, had a grudge against Cassio, because the latter had been made lieutenant, a post he coveted himself. He also envied the happiness of Othello; for he himself had cherished a passion for Desdemona, and had been filled with bitterness at her preference for the noble Moor. He therefore determined to bring Cassio quickly out of favour with his master, so that he himself might be advanced; and with this object he devised the cunning and cruel plan of making Othello believe that Cassio was the lover of Desdemona, and thus, by bringing misery on all, to satisfy his vengeful and envious nature.

He first of all led the unsuspecting Cassio into the folly of drinking too deeply one night when on guard in the camp; and then, as squabbling arose in consequence of this, he brought Othello upon the scene to learn the cause of the disturbance.

The Moor was so displeased with the foolish conduct of Cassio that he would not permit him to be his lieutenant any longer; but the cunning Iago was not yet satisfied, and he determined to use the disgraced officer still further, in order to bring woe upon Othello himself, whose happiness in the possession of the lovely Desdemona he was so eager to destroy.

He therefore now pretended to be Cassio's friend, and advised him earnestly to ingratiate himself with the Lady Desdemona, who might be induced to intercede with her husband on behalf of the erring officer; and as Iago's own wife, Emilia, was chief lady-in-waiting to Desdemona, it was quite easy for the necessary interviews to be arranged.

The gentle Desdemona, with never a thought of evil, received Cassio very kindly, and promised to plead for him with her husband, saying:

"... Assure thee,
If I do vow a friendship I'll perform it
To the last article ...
Therefore, be merry, Cassio,
For thy solicitor shall rather die
Than give thy cause away!"

Unfortunately, just as Cassio bent to kiss the lady's hand in gratitude as he departed, Othello himself appeared, accompanied by Iago, who cunningly drew his attention to this little scene.

The first faint shadow of jealousy thus crept into the mind of Othello; and when Desdemona presently began to plead for Cassio, although he answered her with fair words, he had already begun to doubt her in his heart.

After Desdemona had retired, Iago ruthlessly continued his wicked scheme of sowing the seeds of doubt in Othello's passionate heart; and the Moor quickly began to suffer the sharp pangs of jealousy, and to cherish a secret wrath against his innocent wife.

"Good name in man and woman, dear my lord,
Is the immediate jewel of their souls:
Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing;
'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands;
But he that filches from me my good name,
Robs me of that which not enriches him,
And makes me poor indeed!"

said Iago, in a careless tone; and with such enigmatical, subtle words did he set the poison of doubt to work in his master's mind.

Encouraged by the quick success of his villainy, Iago now bade his wife Emilia to procure for him a certain richly worked handkerchief belonging to Desdemona, which had been Othello's first gift to her during their courtship; and Emilia, having no suspicion of treachery, but humbly obedient to her husband's wishes, secured the pretty trifle for him without the knowledge of her mistress. Iago then found an opportunity to make Othello believe that he had discovered this handkerchief amongst the belongings of Cassio, and that it had been given to the ex-lieutenant by Desdemona; and he also added casually that he had often heard Cassio murmur the name of Desdemona with loving emphasis in his sleep.

This announcement filled Othello with such rage that he rushed furiously at Iago, and flung him to the ground; and when next he met Desdemona he broke out into such a stormy tirade that the gentle lady was terrified.

As the days went on the poison of jealousy so artfully administered by the ruthless Iago began to permeate the whole being of the unfortunate Moor to such an extent that he put an evil construction upon the most innocent remarks of Desdemona; and the bewildered wife became very unhappy as she noted the altered behaviour of her husband, being quite unable to account for such a change, since her love for him was as deep and true as ever.

One day there came ambassadors from Venice with letters on State matters for Othello, in which he was bidden to return home; and upon the messengers asking for the absent Cassio, who was to be deputed to the Moor's place, Desdemona replied that the lieutenant had been disgraced, but that she was constantly pleading for his restoration to favour, since she had much regard for him. On hearing these words, spoken in all innocence and kindly feeling for one in trouble, Othello's mad jealousy was roused again; and in a wild outburst of rage he struck Desdemona a rough blow, and then fell to the ground in a convulsive fit brought on by his deep emotion.

That night, as Desdemona retired to rest, she was filled with sad thoughts and strange forebodings of ill; and as Emilia helped her to disrobe, she sang a low, plaintive song, which she declared had been sung to her mother on her death-bed, and which had haunted the unhappy lady all day. These were the words of the song:

"The poor soul sat singing by a sycamore tree,
Sing all a green willow;
Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee,
Sing willow, willow, willow:
The fresh streams ran by her and murmured her moans,
Sing willow, willow, willow:
Her salt tears fell from her, and soften'd the stones;
Sing willow, willow, willow!"

When this sad ditty came to an end, Emilia left her mistress in bed; and the troubled Desdemona at length fell asleep.

Presently Othello entered the chamber with his sword in his hand, intending to kill her; but she looked so fair and tranquil as she slept that he could not bear to shed her blood, though he did not mean to go back from his resolve. He still loved her tenderly, in spite of the over-mastering jealousy which had eaten into his heart, and his firm belief that she had permitted Cassio to be her lover; and bending over the bed he kissed her sweet lips passionately, murmuring softly:

"O balmy breath, that doth almost persuade
Justice to break her sword!—one more, one more—
Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee,
And love thee after:—One more, and that's the last:
So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep,
But they are cruel tears: This sorrow's heavenly;
It strikes where it doth love!"

The hot kisses of Othello awakened Desdemona, who was much startled at finding her husband bending over her with such a fierce look in his passionate eyes; nor was she reassured when Othello asked sternly:

"Have you prayed to-night, Desdemona?"

The poor lady assured him that she had offered up her prayers as usual, and asked him the meaning of such a strange question; and then Othello declared that it was his resolve to kill her, again fiercely denouncing her as untrue to her wifely vows.

It was in vain that the hapless Desdemona protested her innocence, and pleaded piteously for mercy; so firmly was Othello convinced of her perfidy, owing to the false insinuations of Iago, that nothing could now make him believe in her innocence, and in a paroxysm of jealous passion he seized the pillows and bed-coverings and pressed them over his victim until she was stifled.

Just then Emilia's voice was heard calling loudly for admission; and thinking she had come to bring news of Cassio, whose death he had already ordered, Othello opened the door and let her into the room. But Emilia reported that Cassio was not dead, though wounded; and as she related this news the weak voice of the expiring Desdemona murmured softly, "A guiltless death I die!"

Emilia hurried to the bedside, just as her beloved mistress breathed her last; and filled with horror as she thus understood that Othello had slain his fair wife, she uttered loud cries of grief and alarm, so that a number of attendants hurried into the room, amongst them Iago and the Venetian Ambassadors.

Othello defended his conduct by relating the false tales of Desdemona which he had heard from Iago, more particularly dwelling upon the incident of the embroidered handkerchief; but when Emilia heard this, her husband's treachery dawned upon her for the first time, and she declared stoutly that she herself had procured the handkerchief for Iago at his own command.

It was in vain that Iago endeavoured to prevent his wife from telling what she knew about this incident, and from proclaiming Desdemona's innocence, which was now plain to all; and finding that she would not be silenced, and that her accusing words had brought his villainy to light, he rushed upon her in fury, and stabbed her to the heart.

The Ambassador immediately ordered his arrest; and then, turning to Othello, who was now filled with agonising remorse and despair on learning that he had slain his beloved wife without cause, since she had been innocent after all, he said:

"O thou Othello, that was once so good,
What shall be said to thee?"

And Othello replied humbly and sorrowfully:

"When you shall these unlucky deeds relate,
Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate,
Nor set down aught in malice: then must you speak
Of one that lov'd not wisely, but too well;
Of one not easily jealous, but, being wrought,
Perplex'd in the extreme; of one, whose hand,
Like the base Indian, threw a pearl away,
Richer than all his tribe; of one, whose subdued eyes,
Albeit unused to the melting mood,
drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees
Their medicinal gum: Set you down this:
And say besides—that in Aleppo once,
Where a malignant and a turban'd Turk
Beat a Venetian and traduced the state,
I took by the throat the circumcised dog,
And smote him—thus!"

With these words the unhappy Moor seized his sword, and stabbed himself to the heart; then, as the attendants sprang forward in horror, he fell back dead beside the corpse of his beloved Desdemona.