The beauties of this play impress themselves so strongly upon the
attention of the reader, that they can draw no aid from critical
illustration. The fiery openness of Othello, magnanimous, artless, and
credulous, boundless in his confidence, ardent in his affection,
inflexible in his resolution, and obdurate in his revenge; the cool
malignity of Iago, silent in his resentment, subtle in his designs, and
studious at once of his interest and his vengeance; the soft simplicity
of Desdemona, confident of merit, and conscious of innocence, her
artless perseverance in her suit, and her slowness to suspect that she
can be suspected, are such proofs of Shakespeare's skill in human
nature, as, I suppose, it is vain to seek in any modern writer. The
gradual progress which Iago makes in the Moor's conviction, and the
circumstances which he employs to inflame him, are so artfully natural,
that, though it will, perhaps, not be said of him as he says of himself,
that he is "a man not easily jealous," yet we cannot but pity him, when
at last we find him "perplexed in the extreme."

There is always danger, lest wickedness, conjoined with abilities,
should steal upon esteem, though it misses of approbation; but the
character of Iago is so conducted, that he is, from the first scene to
the last, hated and despised.

Even the inferiour characters of this play would be very conspicuous in
any other piece, not only for their justness, but their strength. Cassio
is brave, benevolent and honest, ruined only by his want of stubbornness
to resist an insidious invitation. Roderigo's suspicious credulity, and
impatient submission to the cheats which he sees practised upon him, and
which, by persuasion, he suffers to be repeated, exhibit a strong
picture of a weak mind betrayed by unlawful desires to a false friend;
and the virtue of Aemilia is such as we often find, worn loosely, but
not cast off, easy to commit small crimes, but quickened and alarmed at
atrocious villanies.

The scenes, from the beginning to the end, are busy, varied by happy
interchanges, and regularly promoting the progression of the story; and
the narrative, in the end, though it tells but what is known already,
yet is necessary to produce the death of Othello.

Had the scene opened in Cyprus, and the preceding incidents been
occasionally related, there had been little wanting to a drama of the
most exact and scrupulous regularity.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Mr. Heath, who wrote