But he that filches from me my good name,

Robs me of that which not enriches him,
And makes me poor indeed;”–

he but gives out, that he is restrained only by a high regard for others from uttering what would blast them. And there is withal a dark frightful significance in his manner, which at once excites suspicion and challenges investigation the more he refuses to tell, the more he sharpens the desire to know, his thoughts: when questioned, he so states his reasons for not speaking that they operate only as reasons why he should speak, and that Othello cannot help constraining him to speak. In short, he appears to have a secret so important for the Moor to know that he dare not divulge it to him; and thus literally compels the Moor to extort it from him. For his avowed purpose is, not merely to deceive Othello, but to get his thanks for deceiving him; to

"Make the Moor thank me, love me, and reward me
For making him egregiously an ass,

And practising upon his peace and quiet

Even to madness;"

such is his aim, such the least that will content him.

From what hath been said, it would seem, that in Iago intellectuality itself is made a character; that is, the intellect has cast off all allegiance to the moral and religious sentiments, and become a law and an impulse unto itself; so that the mere fact of his being able to do a thing is sufficient reason for doing it: nay, the more wicked it is, and the more dangerous and dif ficult from its wickedness, the more pride and pleasure

he takes in doing it: in a word, his actuating principle seems to be a lust and pride of intellect and will, which finds its dearest gratification in the annulling or reversing of moral distinctions.

For in such cases there is naturally a self-engendered activity of intellect: the mind comes to act, not for any outward ends or objects, but merely for the sake of acting; gets impatient of rest and reckless of consequences; has a passion for feats of agility and strength; is greedy of doing something, of bringing something to pass; and may even go so far as to revel and riot amid the very dangers and difficulties of wicked enterprises. We thus have, not indeed a craving for carnal indulgences, but a dry, frigid, prurient intellectuality, or, as another hath finely expressed it, a lust of the brain, which frequently and naturally manifests itself in a fanaticism of intrigue, an enthusiasm for mischief, a sort of hungering and thirsting after unrighteousness : for it need hardly be said, that though there are no lagos, there are many very Iagoish men in the world; men whose fingers are always itching to pull some infernal wires.

Such, then, I take it, is essentially the character of Iago; and this prolific idea will, I doubt not, furnish a satisfactory explanation of all his doings and designs. Of course, therefore, he never falls into any sensualities: on the contrary, all his acts and desires are eminently spiritual and satanical; his passions are all concentrated in the head; so that he scorns and abjures the lusts of the flesh; or, if he indulges them at all, generally does it in a criminal way, and not so much for the sake of the indulgence as of the criminality it involves.-We

are apt, indeed, to think and speak of sin as consisting mainly in the reign of the senses, the subjection of the reason to the flesh: but it consists much rather in subjecting every thing to our minds, making our reason the test and measure of truth, our will the source and standard of law. Such, indeed, appears to be the motive principle of the devil, who, so far as we know, is neither a glutton, nor a wine-bibber, nor a debauchee, but an impersonation of pride and self-will; that is, a very moral and irreligious personage; one who looks up to nobody but himself, and scorns to recognize any wisdom or authority above his own reason; unteachable, ungovernable accordingly he is the first created being that we read of, who attempted self-government. It is probably for these reasons, that he sometimes appears even jealous of carnal sins, as being inimical to those nobler sins of pride and self-will wherein he specially delights; and that he so often sets men to railing at the former as a diversion of their minds while he steals the latter into them. And for the same reason he sometimes aids, apparently, in reforming the manners of men, that he may the better make sure of their minds; and even fortifies them against sensual vices by inspiring them with a high conceit of virtue, which is of course more grateful to him: whereas nature often surprises and betrays men into sensual vices, that she may twist them into a scourge to whip down their pride; for "our virtues would be proud, if our faults whipped them not." Something too much of this.

It is worthy of remark, that Iago has a peculiar classification whereby all the movements of our nature fall under the two heads of sensual and rational: nature

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has given us one scale of reason to poise another of sensuality; and the thing we call love is but a scion of the latter."-The healthy mind is marked by peculiar openness to influences and impressions from without; is apt to be overmastered by the inspiration of external objects; in which case the understanding is kept subordinate to the social, moral and religious sentiments. Wherefore if, for example, a man grows old without falling in love, we naturally infer, either that there is not much in him, or that what there is, is very much diseased. But our wise ancient despises all this. Man, argues he, is made up altogether of intellect and appetite; and whatever motions do not spring from the former must be referred to the latter. To be overmastered by external objects, implies a conquest of the flesh over the mind: the yielding to inspirations from without argues an ignoble want of spiritual force: the sentiments of love, honour, reverence, in short, all the religions of our nature,-the very principles which, had they power as they have right, would control all our thoughts and actions,-according to this liberal and learned spirit are but "a lust of the blood and a permission of the will," and therefore things which he looks down upon with contempt. Hence, whenever he thinks. or speaks of the wedded lovers, his mind only finds or breeds matter for impious and obscene jests; and he knows no homage to womanhood but the overflowings of a scurrilous and profane levity.

But the truth is, Iago has, properly speaking, no susceptibilities; his mind is perfectly unimpressible, receives nothing, yields to nothing, but cuts its way through every thing like a flint, Thus his mental violence and viru

lence precludes the feeling of moral qualities, as such; he has become so intellectual as to lose the perception of them altogether; and of course he is not so weak as to admit the existence of what he cannot see. Wherefore, in speaking of persons he is "nothing, if not critical;" for he studies them, as professed critics do books, only to pass judgment upon them; uses them but as occasions to exercise and evince his own acuteness; pulls up every flower, however beautiful, to find a flaw in the root, and of course flaws the root in pulling it. As might be expected, therefore, he is an accomplished satirist; and the severity of his satire is in proportion to the excellence of its subject; as death breeds the most offence out of what was fairest in life: for, to a mind so filled with pride of knowledge, commendation of any thing naturally goes against the grain..

In my remarks upon Edmund I said, he did not so much make war on morality as shift her out of the way to make room for his wit: seeing the road clear to his desires but for moral restraints, he rather laughs off than braves those restraints; is very polite to them, though somewhat waggish withal, and respectfully bows them out of door, lest they should hinder or harass the working of his faculties. Iago differs from Edmund in that he will rather invade than elude the laws of morality; seeing duty coming, he takes no pains to play round and get by her, but rather goes out of his way to meet her, as if on purpose to spit in her face and walk over her; instead of trying to evade or shuffle off the obligations of right, he coolly invokes them into his presence, to brave them. That he ought not to do a thing is thus his strongest motive for doing it; the worse the deed,