On the way to Cyprus a terrible tempest sprang up, which scattered
Othello’s convoy, and drove his own ship out of its course, so that,
after all, Desdemona got to the island before her husband. Cassio,
Othello’s lieutenant, had already arrived, and had been sounding the
praises of his General’s wife to the islanders, and when news came
that Desdemona’s ship had also safely reached port, he was ready with
a rapturous greeting for the young bride.
“O, behold, the riches of the ship is come on shore!” he cried,
as Desdemona approached, with Emilia, Iago, Roderigo, and their
attendants. “Hail to thee, lady! The grace of heaven, before, behind
thee, and on every hand, enwheel thee round!”
“I thank thee, valiant Cassio,” replied Desdemona. “What tidings can
you tell me of my lord?”
Cassio answered that Othello was not yet arrived, and for anything he
knew he was well, and would be there shortly; and even as he spoke,
the guns on the citadel thundered a greeting to a friendly sail.
Like a spider who has woven its web, Iago watched his victims; he
gloated over the idle chatter between Cassio and Desdemona, and
marked, as they laughed and talked together, how the young man smiled
and bowed, and often kissed his fingers with an air of gallantry.
“Ay, smile upon her, do,” he sneered to himself; “if such tricks as
these strip you out of your lieutenancy, it had been better you had
not kissed your three fingers so oft.... Very good; well kissed! an
excellent courtesy! ’tis so, indeed!”
So he went on, taking malicious pleasure in the young man’s little
affected airs, which would the more readily lend colour to any
suggestions Iago chose to bring against him.
Othello, meanwhile, had landed. His joy at again meeting his wife was
so intense that he could scarcely express it.
[Illustration: “Ay, smile upon her!”]
“If it were possible now to die, ’twere now to be most happy,” he
exclaimed, for he feared that unknown fate would never again hold in
store for him another moment of such absolute content. “Come, let us
to the castle. News, friends!” he went on, turning to the others. “Our
wars are done, the Turks are drowned. How does my old acquaintance of
this isle?... Come, Desdemona, once more, well met at Cyprus!”
In honour of the good tidings of the destruction of the Turkish fleet,
and of the marriage of their new Governor, Othello, a public rejoicing
was proclaimed in Cyprus, and during the space of six hours the whole
island was to be given up to feasting and revelry.
Cassio was appointed to watch that evening as Captain of the Guard,
and Iago saw here an excellent opportunity to take the first step
in his scheme of revenge, by bringing some disgrace on the young
lieutenant. He knew that a very little wine, such as would have
no effect on another man, made Cassio excited and quarrelsome. He
determined to lure him on to drink more than was good for him, after
which Roderigo was to find some occasion to irritate Cassio, either
by speaking too loud, or sneering at his discipline, or by any other
means he pleased. Cassio, being rash, and very sudden in anger, would
probably strike Roderigo, which, if possible, he was to be provoked
into doing, for out of this Iago would incite the islanders to mutiny,
and get Cassio dismissed from his post.
When, therefore, Cassio entered the hall of the castle to take up
his duties for the night, Iago met him with a great appearance of
friendliness, and cordially pressed him to join in the entertainment
he had provided for some guests,--Montano, the former Governor of
Cyprus, and some other gentlemen, who would fain drink a measure to
the health of Othello. Knowing his own weakness, Cassio at first
refused.
“Not to-night, good Iago,” he said. “I have very poor and unhappy
brains for drinking; I could well wish courtesy would invent some
other custom of entertainment.”
“O, they are our friends! But one cup!” pleaded Iago. “I will drink it
for you.”
Cassio answered that he had drunk only one cup that night, and even of
that the wine was diluted, and yet he already felt the effects. He was
unfortunate in this peculiarity, and dared not task his weakness with
any more.
“What, man! ’Tis a night of revels; the gallants desire it,” urged the
tempter.
“Where are they?” asked Cassio, his resolution beginning to falter.
“Here, at the door; I pray you, call them in.”
“I’ll do it, but it mislikes me,” said Cassio, and he reluctantly went
in search of Iago’s guests. When he presently returned with three or
four noisy gallants who had themselves been feasting too lavishly,
they had already persuaded him to drink another cup with them.
Iago now did his best to lure them on by calling for more wine, and
trolling out a jovial song:
“And let me the canakin clink, clink;
And let me the canakin clink;
A soldier’s a man;
A life’s but a span;
Why then let a soldier drink-drink!”
[Illustration: “An excellent song!”]
“An excellent song!” pronounced Cassio, whereupon Iago sang another,
which he found even “more exquisite” than the first. So merrily went
the minutes that it was not until much later that the new lieutenant
remembered his neglected duties, by which time his senses were quite
confused by what he had drunk.
When he left, Iago took occasion to spread a bad impression of him by
saying what a pity it was that such a good soldier should be spoilt by
the persistent habit of drink--in fact, that he never went sober to
bed. This, of course, was an absolute falsehood, but the gentlemen of
Cyprus believed what Iago said. Montano remarked it was a pity Othello
were not told of it; perhaps he did not know, or perhaps his good
nature prized the virtue in Cassio, and overlooked the evil. It was a
great pity that the noble Moor should hazard such an important place
as second in command to one with such an incurable fault. It would be
right to say so to Othello.
“Not I, for this fair island,” said the hypocritical Iago. “I love
Cassio well, and would do much to cure him of this, evil.--But hark!
What noise?” for there was a cry without: “Help! help!”
The next instant Cassio entered violently, driving Roderigo in front
of him and beating him. Montano interfered to protect Roderigo,
whereupon Cassio turned on him, and both drawing their weapons,
Montano was presently wounded. Iago, meanwhile, had sent Roderigo to
run and cry a mutiny, and make as much disturbance as possible, while
Iago himself had the alarum-bell set pealing, and shouted noisily in
all directions, contriving largely to increase the confusion, under
pretence of restoring order.
Othello was speedily on the scene, and with prompt decision at once
silenced the uproar. Then he asked for an explanation, which no one
seemed willing to give.
“Honest Iago, that lookest dead with grieving, speak: who began this?
On thy love, I charge thee.”
Iago mumbled some confused excuses, which were certainly not intended
to deceive the General. Cassio, on being appealed to, now completely
sobered by the shock, answered simply, “I pray you, pardon me; I
cannot speak.” Montano declared that he was too much injured to say
anything; Othello’s officer, Iago, could tell him everything; he was
not conscious of having done or said anything amiss.
Othello now began to lose patience, and knowing the serious danger of
such a disturbance in the present unsettled condition of the island,
he curtly commanded Iago to let him know how the brawl began, and who
set it on.
With feigned reluctance, but with much secret satisfaction, Iago
gave an account of what had happened, taking care to heighten his
own ignorance of the affair, and ostentatiously pretending to try to
shield Cassio from blame.
Othello’s sentence was short and sharp.
“I know, Iago, thy honesty and love do mince this matter, making it
light to Cassio.--Cassio, I love thee, but never more be officer of
mine.”
When Othello and the others had retired, Iago, seeing Cassio standing
as if dazed, went up and asked him if he were hurt.
“Ay, past all surgery,” was the mournful response.
“Marry, Heaven forbid!” said Iago, startled.
“Reputation, reputation, reputation!” groaned Cassio. “O, I have lost
my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of myself. My reputation,
Iago, my reputation!”
“As I am an honest man, I thought you had received some bodily wound,”
scoffed Iago. “There is more sense in that than in ‘_reputation_.’”
And he tried to cheer up Cassio by telling him there were ways in
which he could recover the General’s favour,--only sue to him, and he
would soon be won round.
“I would rather sue to be despised than deceive so good a commander
with so slight, so drunken, so indiscreet an officer,” returned the
contrite Cassio.
“You or any man may be drunk once in his life, man,” urged Iago.
“I’ll tell you what you shall do.” And he went on to say that the
General’s wife was now the General, meaning by this that Othello would
do anything that Desdemona wanted. Iago advised Cassio to appeal to
Desdemona. She was so good and kind that she always did more than she
was asked. If Desdemona pleaded with Othello on his behalf, Iago was
ready to wager anything that Cassio would soon be in higher favour
than ever.
Cassio was grateful to Iago for his counsel, which the latter
protested he only offered in love and honest kindness, and Cassio
resolved early the next morning to beseech Desdemona to undertake his
cause.
Iago was delighted to find his plot working so smoothly. He knew that
the more earnestly Desdemona appealed on behalf of Cassio, the more
fuel there would be to feed Othello’s jealousy.
Thus, out of the gentle lady’s own sweetness and goodness Iago made
the net that was to enmesh them all.