to the world in general. But he never did
so. Only the feeble eyes of the poor gull Roderigo were allowed a
glimpse into that pit.

The bearing of this contrast upon the apparently excessive credulity of
Othello has been already pointed out. What further conclusions can be
drawn from it? Obviously, to begin with, the inference, which is
accompanied by a thrill of admiration, that Iago's powers of
dissimulation and of self-control must have been prodigious: for he was
not a youth, like Edmund, but had worn this mask for years, and he had
apparently never enjoyed, like Richard, occasional explosions of the
reality within him. In fact so prodigious does his self-control appear
that a reader might be excused for feeling a doubt of its possibility.
But there are certain observations and further inferences which, apart
from confidence in Shakespeare, would remove this doubt. It is to be
observed, first, that Iago was able to find a certain relief from the
discomfort of hypocrisy in those caustic or cynical speeches which,
being misinterpreted, only heightened confidence in his honesty. They
acted as a safety-valve, very much as Hamlet's pretended insanity did.
Next, I would infer from the entire success of his hypocrisy--what may
also be inferred on other grounds, and is of great importance--that he
was by no means a man of strong feelings and passions, like Richard, but
decidedly cold by temperament. Even so, his self-control was wonderful,
but there never was in him any violent storm to be controlled. Thirdly,
I would suggest that Iago, though thoroughly selfish and unfeeling, was
not by nature malignant, nor even morose, but that, on the contrary, he
had a superficial good-nature, the kind of good-nature that wins
popularity and is often taken as the sign, not of a good digestion, but
of a good heart. And lastly, it may be inferred that, before the giant
crime which we witness, Iago had never been detected in any serious
offence and may even never have been guilty of one, but had pursued a
selfish but outwardly decent life, enjoying the excitement of war and of
casual pleasures, but never yet meeting with any sufficient temptation
to risk his position and advancement by a dangerous crime. So that, in
fact, the tragedy of _Othello_ is in a sense his tragedy too. It shows
us not a violent man, like Richard, who spends his life in murder, but a
thoroughly bad, _cold_ man, who is at last tempted to let loose the
forces within