NORTH.

"The ship is here put in,A Veronese; Michael Cassio,Lieutenant to the warlike Moor, Othello,Is come on shore"—

"A sail—a sail—a sail!My hopes do shape him for the Governor."

"'Tis one Iago, Ancient to the General."

"The riches of the ship is come on shore!"

"Ye men of Cyprus, let her have your knees.

The Moor! I know his trumpet."

There's the power of poetry for you—I do pity poor prose. The sea-beach—town—fortifications—all crowded with people on the gaze-out—for hours. For ships on the stormy sea. But not a ship to be seen. Obedient to the passion of the people, one ship after another appears in the offing—salutes and is saluted—is within the Bay—inside the Breakwater—drops anchor—the divine Desdemona has landed—Othello has her in his arms—

"O my soul's joy!If after every tempest comes such calms,May the winds blow till they have waken'd death!And let the labouring bark climb hills of seasOlympus-high; and duck again as lowAs hell's from heaven!"

allin five minutes—in three minutes—in one minute—in no time—in less than no time.

What's your drift?

Handle Shakspeares! Scene II.—A Street—On the day of Othello's arrival—the Proclamation is issued "that there is full liberty of feasting for this present hour ofFive, till the bell has told Eleven"—for besides the mere perdition of the Turkish Fleet, it is the "celebrationof his nuptials."

We all know that—go on.

His nuptials! Why, I thought he had been married at Venice!

Who cares what you think? Scene III.—a Hall in the Castle—and enter Othello, Desdemona, Cassio, and attendants. Othello says—

"Good Michael, look you to the guard to-night:Let's teach ourselves that honourable stop,Not to outsport discretion."

And before retiring for the night with Desdemona, he says—

"Michael, good night:To-morrow, with our earliest,Let me have speech with you."

Why lay you such emphasis on these unimportant words?

They are not unimportant. Then comes the Night Brawl—as schemed by Iago. Othello, on the spot, cashiers Cassio—and at that very moment, Desdemona entering disturbed, with attendants, he says—

"Look if my gentle love is not rais'd up.—Come, Desdemona; 'tis the soldiers' life,To have their balmy slumbers wak'd with strife."

Iago advises the unfortunate Cassio to "confess himself freely" to Desdemona—who will help to put him in his place again—and Cassio replies—"betimes in the morning I will beseech the virtuous Desdemona to undertake forme: I am desperate ofmy fortunes, if they check me here;"—and the Scene concludes with these words of Iago's—

"Two things are to be done,—My wife must move for Cassio to her mistress;I'll set her on;Myself, the while,to draw the Moor apart,And bring him jump when he may Cassio findSoliciting his wife; Ay, that's the way;Dull not device by coldness and delay."

"By the mass, 'tis morning," quoth Iago—and Act II. closes with the dawn of the Second Day at Cyprus. You don't deny that?

Nobody denies it—nobody ever denied it—nobody ever will deny it.

Act Third. Now forAct III.

Our six eyes—and our six ears are all wide awake, sir.

It opens before the Castle—as thesame morningis pretty well advanced—and Cassio is ordering some Musicians to play "Good-morrow, General."

On the same morning? I am not so sure of that, sir.

Nobody denies it—nobody ever did deny it—nobody ever will deny it.

Not so fast, sir.

Why, you slow Coach! Cassio says to the Clown, who is with the Musicians, "There's a poor piece of gold for thee: if the Gentlewoman that attends the General's wife be stirring, tell her, there's one Cassio entreats her a little favour of speech;"—and as the Clown goes off, Iago enters—and says to Cassio—

"You have not been a-bed, then?

And Cassio answers—

Why, no;the day had brokeBefore we parted. I have made bold, Iago,To send in to your wife. My suit to herIs, that she will to virtuous DesdemonaProcure me some access.Iago.I'll send her to you presently;And I'll devise a mean to draw the MoorOut of the way, that your converse and businessMay be more free."

Why, no;the day had brokeBefore we parted. I have made bold, Iago,To send in to your wife. My suit to herIs, that she will to virtuous DesdemonaProcure me some access.

Iago.I'll send her to you presently;And I'll devise a mean to draw the MoorOut of the way, that your converse and businessMay be more free."

Emilia then enters, and tells Cassio that all will soon be well—"the General and his Wife are talking of it—and she speaks for you stoutly."—

All this does not positively imply that the preceding night was the night of the Brawl. Cassio, though originally intending it, on reflection may have thought it too precipitate to apply to Desdemona the very next day; and there is nothing improbable in his having been with Iago till daybreak on some subsequent night. It is not quite clear, then, that the Third Act commences on the morning after Cassio's dismissal.

O rash and inconsiderate man!

Who is?

You. It is not quite clear! I say 'tis clear as mud or amber. Iago has with such hellish haste conceived and executed his machinations, that Cassio has been cashiered some few hours after landing in Cyprus. In thepride of success, he urges on Cassio to apply without delay to Desdemona in the morning. We see the demi-devil determined to destroy—"By the mass, 'tis morning—pleasure and action make the hours seem short." Iago may have gone to bed for a few hours—Cassio had not—"You have not been a-bed, then."—"Why, no; the day had broke before we parted." The Time of the end of Second Act, and of the beginning of Third Act, are thus connected as firmly as words and deeds can connect. You say there is nothing improbable in Cassio's having been with Iago till daybreak on some subsequent night! Why, who the devil cares to know that Cassio had not been to bed on some other night? His not having been to bed onthisnight is an indication ofhisanxiety, and Iago's question is a manifestation ofhismalevolence cloaked with an appearance of concern. In each case an appropriate trait of character is brought before us; but the main purpose of the words is to fix the time, which they do without the possibility of a doubt. Theydemonstratethat the Third Act opens on the morning immediately subsequent to the night on which Act Second closes. This morning dovetails into that night with an exactness which nothing could improve.

Why so fierce, my good sir?

Fierce! I may well be fierce. What! Cassio's desire to see Desdemona cool before morning—Iago's desire to drive him on to his destruction cool too—and both walk away without further heed—and when next seen, after an interval of some weeks or months, talking about not having been in bed during some other night on which nothing particular has happened! Bah!

Sir, I do not like to see you so much excited. You mistake me—I was merely, at your bidding, assisting you in your expiscation of the Time—we are at one about it—

My dear Talboys, forgive me—my irascibility is a disease—

Health—health—exuberant health of mind and body—May you live a thousand years.

The Third Act, then, you allow, opens on the morning of the day following the night on which the Second Act closes?

I not only allow, my dear Sir, I insist on it. Let me hear any man deny it, and I will knock the breath out of his body! Proceed, Sir.

Obstinate? I never called you obstinate, my dear Talboys. Well—let me proceed, with you for an ally. In this same scene, First of Act Third, Cassio says to Emilia,

"Yet, I beseech you,If you think fit, or that it may be done,Give me advantage of some brief discourseWith Desdemona alone."

And Emilia says to him,

"Pray you, come in;I will bestow you where you shall have timeTo speak your bosom freely.Cassio.I am much bound to you."

And off they go to sue to the gentle Desdemona.

Alas! somewhat too gentle.

Then follows Scene II. of Act III.—a very short one—let me read it aloud.

"A Room in the Castle.

EnterOthello,Iago,and Gentlemen.

Othello.These letters give, Iago, to the pilot;And, by him, do my duties to the State;That done, I will be walking on the works;Repair there to me.Iago.Well, my good Lord, I'll do't.Othello.This fortification, gentlemen,—shall we see't?Gent.We'll wait upon your lordship. [Exeunt."

That this Scene is on the same day as Scene Second—and with little intermission of time—is too plain to require proof. Othello here sends off his first dispatches to Venice by the pilot who had brought him safely to Cyprus, and then goes out to inspect the fortification. That is in the natural course of things—such a scene at any subsequent time would be altogether without meaning.

I cannot see that, sir.

None so blind as they who will not see.

There again.

What do you want, Talboys?

Have the goodness, my dear sir, to pause a moment—and go back to the close of the Scene preceding this short one. Then and there, Cassio, as we saw, goes into the Castle with Emilia, "to be bestowed" that he may have an opportunity of asking Desdemona to intercede for him with Othello. But "to be bestowed" may mean to have apartments there—and he may have been living in the Castle for several days, with or without Othello's knowledge, before that short Scene which you have just now quoted.

Living in the Castle for several days! With or without Othello's knowledge! Prodigious! All that Cassio asked was, "the advantage of somebrief discourse;" and, that he might have that advantage, Emilia gave him apartments in the Castle! And there we may suppose him living at rack and manger, lyingperduin the Governor's House! Emilia was a queer customer enough, but she could hardly have taken upon herself the responsibility of secreting a man under the same roof with Desdemona, without the sanction of her Mistress—and if with her sanction, what must we think of the "gentle Lady married to the Moor?" Talboys, you are quizzing the old Gentleman.

I give it up.

The short Scene I quoted, then,immediatelyfollows the preceding—in time; and that short Scene is manifestly introduced by Shakspeare, merely to get Othello out on the ramparts with Iago,thatIago may bring the Moor "plump on Cassio soliciting his wife."Scene Third of Act III.!Unfurl.

Ay, ay, sir.Scene Third of Act III.That is the Scene of Scenes.

Scene Third of Act III., accordingly, shows us Desdemona, Cassio, and Emilia before the Castle—and while Cassio is "soliciting his wife"—"enter Othello and Iago at a distance."

"Emilia.Madam, here comesMy Lord.Cassio.Madam, I'll take my leave.Desdemona.Why stay,And hear me speak.Cassio.Madam,not now; I am very ill at ease—Unfit for mine own purposes.Desdemona.Well—well—Do your discretion. [ExitCassio."

Down to this exit of Cassio, we are on the morning or forenoon of the Second Day at Cyprus. Every word said proves we are. Cassio's parting words prove it. "Madam,not now—I'm very ill at ease—unfit for my own purposes." He had been up all night—had been drunk—cashiered. He sees Othello coming—his heart sinks—and he retreats in shame and fear—"unfit for his own purposes."

Eh?

In Scene First of Act III., Emilia tells Cassio that she will do a particular thing—do it of course—quam primum—as a thing that requires no delay, and demands haste—and in Scene III. she appears having done it. In Scene First she tells Cassio that she will bring him to speak with Desdemona about his replacement—and in Scene Third, before the Castle, we find that she has done this. The opportunity came immediately—it was made to her hand—all that was necessary was that Othello should not be present—and he was not present. He had gone out on business. Now was just the nick of time for Cassio to bespeak Desdemona's intercession, and now was just the nick of time on which that intercession was by him bespoken. Nothing could be more nicely critical or opportune.

Between us, sir, we have tied down Scene III. of Act Third to the Forenoon of the Second Day at Cyprus.

We have tied down Shakspeare thus far toShort Time at Cyprus—and to Short Time we shall tie him down till the Catastrophe.Othello murdered Desdemona that very night.

No—no—no. Impossible.

Inevitably—and of a dead certainty.

How—how, sir?

Why will an Eagle be an Owl?

A compliment and a banter—

Why, you Owl! we have just seen Cassio slink away—all is plain sailing now—Talboys—for Iago by four words seals her doom.

"Ha! I like not that!Othello.What dost thou say?Iago.Nothing, my lord: or if—I know not what.Othello.Was not that Cassio parted from my wife?Iago.Cassio, my Lord? No, sure; I cannot think it,That he would steal away soguilty-likeSeeing you coming."

Mark what follows—there is not a moment of intermission in the Action down to end of this Scene Third of Act Third, which you well call the Scene of Scenes, by which time Othello has been convinced of Desdemona's guilt, and has resolved on her Death and Cassio's.

Not a moment of intermission! Let's look to it—if it indeed be so—

See—hear Desdemona pleading for Cassio—see, hear Othello saying—"Not now, sweet Desdemona;" and then again—"Prythee, no more: let him come when he will—I will deny thee nothing." And again—

"I will deny thee nothing;Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this,To leave me but a little to myself.Des.Shall I deny you? no: Farewell, my lord.[Exit with Emilia."

Turn over leaf after leaf—without allowing yourself to read that dreadful colloquy between the Victim and his Destroyer—but letting it glimmer luridly by—till Desdemona comes back—and Othello, under the power of the Angel Innocence, exclaims—

"If she be false, O, then heaven mocks itself!—I'll not believe it."

I behold her! I hear her voice—"gentle and low, an excellent thing in woman."

"Why is your speech so faint? are you not well?Oth.I have a pain upon my forehead here."

She drops that fatal handkerchief—

"I am very sorry that you are not well."

What touching words! They go out together—ignorant she that her husband hath heartache, worse than any headache—

Both to be effectually curedthat nightby—bleeding.

By bleeding?

You Owl—yea.

A sudden thought strikes me, Sir. Desdemona has said to Othello—

"Your dinner, and the generous IslandersBy you invited, do attend your presence."

How's this? This looks like long time—

It may look like what it chooses—but we haveprovedthat we are now on the forenoon of the Second Day at Cyprus.

Would it not have been treating them too unceremoniously to have sent round the cards of invitation only the night before? As far as I have been able to learn, they have long been in the habit of giving not less than a week's invitation to dinner at Cyprus. In Glasgow it is commonly three weeks. And why "generous?" Because they, the Islanders, have given a series of splendid entertainments to Othello and his Bride.

No nonsense, sir. Othello had done what you or I would have done, had either of us been Governor of Cyprus. He had invited the "generous Islanders," immediately on his landing, to dine at the Castle "next day." Had he not done so, he had been a hunks. "Generous," you know, as well as I do, means high-born—men of birth—not generous of entertainments.

True, too. But how comes it to be the dinner hour?

People dined in those days, all England over, about elevena.m.—probably they dined still earlier in the unfashionable region of Cyprus. You are still hankering after the heresy of long time—but no more of thatnow—let us keep to our demonstration of short time—by-and-by you shall see the Gentleman with the Scythe—the Scythian at full swing—as long as yourself.

I sit corrected. Go on.

Othello and Desdemona have just gone out—to do the honours at the Dinner Table to the generous Islanders. He must have been a strange Chairman—for though not yet absolutely mad, his soul was sorely changed. Perhaps he made some apology, and was not at that Dinner at all—perhaps it was never eaten—but we lose sight of him for a little while; and Emilia, who remains behind, picks up the fatal handkerchief, and, with a strange wilfulness, or worse, says—

"I'll have the work ta'en out.And give't Iago."

Iago snatches it from her—and in soliloquy says—

"I will in Cassio's lodgings lose this napkin,And let him find it.""This may do something,—The Moor already changes with the poison:Dangerous conceits are, in their natures, poisons,Which at the first, are scarce found to distaste;But, with a little, act upon the blood,Burn like the mines of sulphur.—I did say so:—EnterOthello.Look! where he comes! Not poppy, nor mandragora,Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world,Shall ever medicinethee to that sweet sleepWhich thou ow'dst yesterday."

Then follows, without break, all the rest of this dreadful Third Scene. The first dose of the poison—the second, and third, and fourth—are all given on one and the same day. The mineral has gnawed through all the coats of the stomach—andHe has sworn to murder Her—all in one day. We have Iago's word for it.Yesterdayhis sleep was sweet—how happy he was then we can imagine—how miserable he isnowwe see—"what a difference tohim," and in him, between Saturday and Sunday!

"O, blood! Iago, blood!

Now by yond' marble heaven,In the due reverence of a sacred vow,I here engage my words.Iago.Do not rise yet. [Kneels.Witness, you ever-burning lights above!You elements, that clip us round about!Witness, that here Iago doth give up,The execution of his wit, hands, heart,To wrong'd Othello's service! Let him command,And to obey shall be in me remorse,What bloody work soever."

Thou Great original Short-Timeist! Unanswerable art Thou. But let us look at the close of this dreadful Third Act.

Othello.I greet thy love,Not with vain thanks, but with acceptance bounteous,And will upon the instant put thee to't:Withinthese three dayslet me hear thee say,That Cassio's not alive.Iago.My friend is dead; 'tis done at your request:But letherlive.Othello.Damn her, lewd minx! O, damn her!Come, go with me apart; I will withdraw,To furnish me with some swift means of deathTo the fair devil. Now art thou my lieutenant.Iago.I am your own for ever.

In three days—at the longest—for Cassio;—but Iago understood, and did it that very night. And swift means of death for the fair devil were in Othello's ownhands—ay—he smothered her that night to a dead certainty—a dead certainty at last—though his hands seem to have faltered.

In the next Scene—Scene IV.—we find Desdemona anxious about the loss of the handkerchief, but still totally unapprehensive of the Moor's jealousy—

"Who—he? I think the sun, where he was born,Drew all such humours from him."

Othello enters, saying, "Well, my good Lady,"—and mutters aside, "Oh! hardness to dissemble"—and very ill he does dissemble, for he leaves Desdemona and Emilia amazed at his mad deportment, the latter exclaiming—"Is not this man jealous?" Iago had told Othello of Cassio's possessing the handkerchief in the previous Scene, and Othello takes the first opportunity,that same afternoon, to ascertain for himself whether she had parted with it. Would he have let an hour elapse before making the inquiry? Can it be for a moment imagined that he passed days and nights with Desdemona without attempting to sound her regarding this most pregnant proof of her guilt? This Scene concludes the Third Act—and the time is not long after dinner.

All this beingproved, it is unnecessary to scrutinise the consecution of the Scenes of Acts Fourth and Fifth—Iago's work is done—one dayhas sufficed—and what folly to bring in long time after this—when his presence would have been unsupportable—had it not been impossible. Death must follow doom.

Death must follow doom.In these four words you have settled the question of time. Long time seemed necessary to change Othello into a murderer—and all the world but you and I believe that long time there was; but you and I know better—and have demonstrated short time—for at the end of the "dreadful Third Act" Othello is a murderer—and what matters it nowwhenhe really seized the pillow to smother her, or unsheathed the knife?

It matters not a jot. But he did the deed that same night—or he had not been Othello.

There again—or he "had not been Othello."In these four words, you have settled the question of time—now and for ever.

It would be a waste of words, sir, to seek to prove by the consecution of the Scenes in Acts Fourth and Fifth—though nothing could be easier—that hedidmurder her that very night.

Very few will suffice. Act IV. begins a little before supper-time. Bianca enters in Scene I. inviting Cassio to supper—"An you'll come to supper to-night, you may." If anything were wanting to connect the closing Scene of Act III. with this opening Scene of Act IV. it is fully supplied by Bianca, who at the end of Act III. gets the handkerchief, in order that she may copy it, and in the scene of this IVth Act, comes back in a fury. "Let the devil and his dam haunt you—what did you mean by that same handkerchief you gave meeven now? I was a fine fool to take it." Cassio had given it to her a little after dinner, and Bianca, inviting him to supper, says he had given it to hereven now. This Scene I. of Act IV. ends with Othello's invitation to the newly arrived Lodovico—"I do entreat that we may sup together." Scene II. comprehends the interview between Othello and Emilia; Othello and Desdemona—Desdemona, Emilia and Iago. The whole do not occupy an hour of time—they follow one another naturally, and the action is continuous. Scene III. shows Lodovico and the Noble Venetians still at the Castle—but now it isaftersupper. Lodovico is departing—

"I do beseech you, sir, trouble yourself no farther.Othello.O pardon me; 'twill do me good to walk.O Desdemona!Desdemona.My Lord?Othello. Get you to bed on the instant, I will be returned forthwith."

Desdemona, obeys—the bed-scene follows—andshe is murdered. What say you, Seward?

"I say ditto to Mr Burke."

Buller?

I say ditto to Mr North.

Why have both of you been so silent?

I knew it all before.

What a bouncer!

I never speak when I am busking Flies. There's a Professor for you—(six red and six black)—pretty full in the body—long-winged—liker eagle than insect—sharper than needle—and with, barb "inextricable as the gored Lion's bite." Lunch-gong. To the Deeside.

Verdict:Desdemona Murdered by Othello on the Second Night In Cyprus.

Having demonstratedShort Time at Cyprus, let us now, if it please you, gentlemen, show forthLong Time at Cyprus.

With all our heart. We havedemonstratedthe one, let usshow forththe other.

And as, in our Demonstration of Short Time, we kept Long Time out of sight—excluded him from the Tent—

Pardon me, sir. I for one was beginning to feel his influence.

How?

In that contraction and expansion of the jaws denoted by that most expressive and characteristic wordYawn; for Seward and I were but listeners.

I don't believe you heard one word.

I did—several; and spoiled a promising Palmer in idly trying to audit your discourse at the interesting point of quarrel—just as you, sir, threw yourself back on your Swing, with an angry jerk, and Talboys started up, "like Teneriffe or Atlas removed," endangering the stability of the Tent.

My dear Talboys, I was saying to you, when rudely interrupted by Buller, that as in our demonstration of Short Time at Cyprus, we, purposely and determinedly, and wisely kept Long Time out of sight, on account of the inextricable perplexity and confusion that would otherwise have involved the argument, so now let us, in showing forth Long Time at Cyprus, keep out of sight Short—and then shall we finally have before our kenTwo Timesat Cyprus, each firmly established on its own ground—and imperiously demanding of the Critics of this great Tragedy—Reconcilement. Reconcilement it may be beyond their power to give—but let them first see theGreat Factwhich not one of the whole set have seen—hand in hand one Day and unassigned Weeks! The condition is altogether anomalous—

A Day of the Calendar, and A Month of the Calendar!No human soul ever dreams of the dreadful sayings and doings all coming offin a day! till he looks—till he is made to look—as we have made Seward and Buller to look—for they heard every word we said—and finds himself nailed by Act and Scene.

To somefifteen hours.

I thought you were going to show forth Long Time at Cyprus.

Why, there it is, staring you in the face everywhere—you may see it with your eyes shut—and as most people read with their eyes shut, they see it—and they see it only—while—

Why, sir, since you won't get on a little faster, Talboys and I must be Ushers to Long Time.

Be—do.

Long Time cunningly insinuates itself, serpentwise, throughout Desdemona's first recorded conversation with Cassio, at the beginning of Scene III., Act III.—the "Dreadful Scene." Thus—

"Assure thee,If I do vow a friendship, I'll perform itTo the last article: my lord shall never rest;I'll watch him tame, and talk him out of patience;His bed shall seem a school, his board a shrift;I'll intermingle everything he doesWith Cassio's suit: Therefore be merry, Cassio;For thy solicitor shall rather dieThan give thy cause away."

This points to a protracted time in the future—and though announcing an intention merely, yet somehow it leaves an impression that Desdemona carries her intention into effect—that she does "watch him tame," does make his "bed seem a school"—does "intermingle everything she does with Cassio's suit." The passage recurred to my mind, I recollect, when you first hinted to me the question of time; and no doubt it tells so on the minds of many—

Inconsiderate people.

All people are more or less inconsiderate, sir.

True.

Then Desdemona says—

"How now, my lord?I have been talking with a suitor here,A manthat languishes in your displeasure."

I cannot listen to that line, even now, without a feeling of the heart-sickness of protracted time—"hope deferred maketh the heart sick"—languishes!even unto death. I think of that fine line in Wordsworth—

"So fades—so languishes—grows dim, and dies."

Poo!

Seward, the remark is a fine one.

Far on in this Scene, Othello says to Iago—

"If more thou dost perceive, let me know more:Set on thy wife to observe."

Iago has not said that he had perceived anything, but Othello, greatly disturbed, speaks as if Iago had said that he had perceived a good deal; and we might believe that they had been a long time at Cyprus. Othello then says—

"This honest creature, doubtless,Sees and knows more, much more, than he unfolds."

In all this, sir, we surely have a feeling of longish time.

Poo!

Heed him not—English manners. We have—

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