Occasionally it becomes impossible to separate the world of a good book from its scenery and the grand back story of history. When I first visited Marseille some years ago I could not get my mind off the Count of Monte Cristo. The searing Mediterranean sun, the scent of fish and spices, the sailing ships in the harbor and the grim specter of the Chateau D’If lying just off shore evoked the black sense of adventure captured by the great tale of revenge. When I journeyed to Northern Cyprus I felt myself in a similar grip of literary déjà vu. This time it was Shakespeare’s classic tale of jealousy, racism and murder- Othello.
In case you haven’t read it; Othello, a Moor converted to Christianity, leads the forces of Venice in their defense of Cyprus against Ottoman invasion. At the same time Othello brings along his new wife, Desdemona, a prominent senator’s daughter whom he has married without permission, only to find upon their arrival that the Turkish armada sank in a storm. In the drunken revels that follow Othello’s ensign, Iago-Shakespeare’s most superbly crafted villain-begins to poison the general’s mind against his wife, convincing the suddenly jealous husband that Desdemona and his second-in-command, Cassio, are having an affair. Othello eventually strangles his wife before realizing his error and committing suicide.
Othello explores the dark side of race relations and gender roles-weaving an air of paranoia in which the slightest titter across the room can be construed as mockery or infidelity. The closeness of Cyprus, where the wine flows freely and the loyalties of the ever-occupied Cypriots are always suspect, is an integral part of the story. The heat and madness of the play’s atmosphere, which build up like an impending thunderstorm on an August afternoon, have stuck with me ever since I first read the play. Traveling to the island I wondered whether the reality would measure up.
Immediately when I stepped off the plane in Girne I could sense a sensuous quality to Cyprus. I saw a world drenched in color: a green wall of mountains, a pale blue sea, red tile roofs, palm fronds and everywhere the yellow and violet of wild flowers. Sea salt, wild blossoms and citrus fruits perfume the air.
I had my first Othello moment upon viewing the squat towers and turrets of Girne Castle. Cyprus’ many castles have a look of slow and elegant decay wrought by centuries of sunshine and salt water. The short yet massive walls of Girne Castle and the nearby sea crashing against the rocks reminded me of a scene in my favorite depiction of the play, Kenneth Branagh’s 1995 version, when Iago first whispers in Othello’s ear, “Look to your wife,” bringing laughing incredulity to the happy husband’s face and yet introducing the first worm of doubt into the pit of his stomach. The shattered arches and bleached columns of Bellepais Abbey likewise seemed perfectly suited for a tormented cuckold’s wandering.
It didn’t take much exploration to realize that Shakespeare had chosen the right place for his tale. Yet it wasn’t enough for me. I became determined to learn what strife brought Othello here.
Cyprus had been a Byzantine possession for centuries when, during the 12th century an adventurer named Isaac Comnenus tricked the nobility into obeying him by forging a commission from the Emperor. He reigned over the island for seven years doing the usual rhyming and stealing until a ship carrying the betrothed of Richard the Lionhearted shipwrecked on the island and Isaac foolishly took her prisoner. Richard promptly invaded and then sold Cyprus to the Knights Templar, who then sold it to the Franks, who bought the island as a consolation prize after losing Jerusalem. The Kingdom of Cyprus lasted for about 300 hundred years until Venice took over when the last Frankish monarch, James II (the bastard) married a Venetian noblewoman and then immediately dropped dead. Venice kidnapped the Queen and claimed the island in 1489. The Venetians used Cyprus exactly as their predecessors had; they levied exorbitant taxes and provided nothing in return. Needless to say, the Greeks hated their guts.
The Italians ruled for most a turbulent century. When you stand on the beaches of the island’s northern shore you can feel the immensity of the Anatolian mainland a scant ferry ride away-a country that by the 16th century was entirely Turkish. Ottoman pirates and gazi warriors raided Cyprus’ shores for plunder and slaves from the very beginning. After the fall of the Crusader kingdoms in the Levant, Cyprus was in effect, a forward area in a much larger conflict.
Unfortunately we can’t pinpoint when the events in Othello are supposed to take place because Shakespeare invented the major political event of the story, the Ottoman invasion, to get his characters on the island; in the source work, published by the Italian writer Cinthio in 1565, Othello was simply relieving Cyprus’ military garrison. Nonetheless this would have been a serious assignment requiring a very capable soldier. The island’s fortifications, a series of castles acting as citadels, weapon stores and watch towers, had to be not only manned and provisioned but also strengthened beyond their design specifications to keep pace with ever more powerful cannons.
At the same time the Venetians were manning the front, they had to watch their backs. Cypriot rebellions were always in the offing. The Venetians did, however, arm their Greek subjects; though they hated one another, master and slave lived in constant fear of invasion from the north. Adding to oppressive heat and foreignness of the tropical island, the suspense of Cyprus’s precarious political situation was a final ingredient in crafting the setting for a play whose dominant themes are jealousy, rashness and paranoia. No author could have chosen a better time and place for such a storythan 16th century Cyprus.
