The Ottawa free trader. [volume] (Ottawa, Ill.) 1843-1916, 1882-02-25

of revenge, of anger, of jealousy. of wrath OF
despair-raged within my soul.
AT that moment some one tapped me on
the shoulder and said:
"'iour cue, SIR
IL started, hastily gathered my thoughts, re
called my lines, and with a feeling of sublime
emotion, burst upon the stage, with Othello's
pathetic cry OF despsed love;
"'Ha ha, false TO mer
Then followed the passionate ensuing
scenes and, if | am to believe my friends,
who saw me on that fearful night, acted them
grandly. Ii was not with me the mere de
clamatory emphasis of the actor, that spoke
the mournful farewell, tor | felt that was in
deed bidding an adieu TO earthly happiness
and as | sand
"'Othello's occupation g goner
real tears gushed from my eyes, and my voice
grew tremulOus and sunk INTO despairlng
whisper. II was with u feeling of sanguinary
terocity that cried
"I'll tear her to piecesn
and again,
80 blood! blood, Iagor
and rs | fell upon my knees, and swore re-
venge by yon marble heaven | reached a
magnificent flight Of tragedy, that made the
theatre fairly ring with the plaudits of the ex
cited multitude
But why should unnecessarily lengthen
my story: Let me hurry on tn the awful eli.
max.
II had but one thought Continued my
frlend,) and that was to revenge myself on this
shameless woman. Her lite and his were the
only atonement for my atfronted honor. IL
was with this feeling that trod the boards in
the last act with the steathy step of muir
derer utterlng with awful emphasis Othello's
fearful monologue to the bloody deed:
I" 1T is the cause it is the cause, my soul.
Let lac not name IL to you, ye chaste stars
II is the cause! yet pl not shed her blood,
Nor scar that whittier skin of hers than snow,
And smooth as monumental alabaster!
Yet she must die, or she'll betray more men. v
81 heard nothing, bloody mist swept be.
fore my eyes, my forehead burned like fur
mace. and the blood coursed hotly through my
veins. So came to her bed.
ACCORDING to the traditional custom, | me
chemically drew the curtains Of the bedroom,
so as to screen from the public gaze the hor-
ror of the death scene. | was alone with her
now, and nothing seemed to hinder me in my
revenge. clutchcd my dagger drew near 10
the couch, raised it in The air with a bloody
flourish, when my uplItted arm was suddenly
seized from behind with the grasp of iron.
II turned, and there was Elliott. With an
inartlcuate cry of rage, | wrested my hand
from his, caught him by the throat, and again
raised the dagger to bury it to Its hilt in his
false heart when Desdemona, opening her eyes,
and seeing his danger, quickly seized my arm
and crled
"'Oh! what would you COY He is my broth.
erh
Her Brother? l looked from HIM to her
Her brothery My brain reeled, "A mighty dark.
ness swept before my eyes, my knees bent, and
tOtered out upon the stage, spun dizziy
around, and then fell prone into chair amid
applause the like of which have never since
heard
Happily il was true When the vacancy
had occurred in our company, Florence, In or
der to secure the position for her brother, with
the thought that if he were known as such her
recommendation would not seem dlsnterested,
suggested an alias; assuming which, the
pseudo Ernest Elliott secured the engagement.
"On that eventtul night, the latter had no.
tced something unusual in my demeanor after
the close of the second act and thinking that
the excitement had possibly caused slight
alteration in my mental powers, had watched
me closely. When the murder scene came he
stood close by IN the wings and observed me
intenty. My disturbed mien, my sudden pas
sion aud unusual Wildness, more than ever
aroused his curiosity. When, therefore, omit
ting the intervening lines of the poet, | seized
the dagger instead Of the pillow, and raised it
to menaclng height, to save me from sup
posed Shakespearean bunder he lightly ran
forward and seized my arm. HIS own sur.
prise and that OF his sister, when caught HIM
by the throat to immediate him on the altar of
my revenge, may he better imagined than de
scrbed. Little did he know that his unlocked
for intervention saved me not merely from a
oh h,,t
ielOn's cell, and perhaps from the ignominy OF
the scatfold That is the story OF my Jealousy
and although the experiences of that fearful
night have raised me to the professional emf.
hence that now enjoy, AS Clarence says:
" Il would not spend another such a night,
Though twere TO buy Il world Of happy days
"And yet love it, as the mother loves the
child that has given her the greatest pain
From that night to this, / have played the
Jealous Moor to thousands, IN every part OF the
civilized world, and yet | never play It but
live again the experiences of that memorable
night After It's performance | seldom sleep,
but toss the night long on my couch until the
mornings dawn.
And that is the reason why, while l have
met with indifferent success in other chsrac
tiers, in Othello | am alone and unrlvaled
With a unaDimlty that Is unusual, critics have
pronounced that creation lis among the great.
est of the modern stage.
well, it was not many weeks after this
eventful night ere Florence became my wife
A year later, when she had the supreme felici
" of becoming a mother, she babe forever
farewell to the stage, and at present presides
over the destinies OF my little house. Come
home and sup with me and see my inspira
ton