"BRAB. [_To his followers_]. Bring him away! [_They advance to take Othello, who puts them back with a look._ Mine's not an idle cause: [_Passes before Othello, who bows to him with respect._ The Duke himself," etc. [_Exit, preceded by the servants of the Senate. His followers are about to pass; Othello stays them, beckons to Cassio, and exit with him. The rest follow, humbly._ The scene wherein Iago first begins to poison the Moor's mind is admirable in the situations and movements of the actors. A great variety is given to the dialogue by the minute directions set down for the guidance of the players. It would be tedious to give them in detail; but I must point out the truth of one action, near the end. The poison is working; but as yet Othello cannot believe he is so wronged,--he is only "perplexed in the extreme,"--not yet transformed quite out of his noble nature. "OTH. [dismissing Iago with a gesture]. Farewell! farewell! [Stopping him, as he goes to the door on the right. If more thou dost perceive, let me know more: Set on thy wife to observe---- [He stops, suffused with shame, and crosses before Iago, without looking at him. Leave me, Iago. IAGO. My lord, I take my leave." This is an idea worthy of a great actor; and of M. Fechter's acting here an English critic says,--"Delicate in its conception and marvellous in its close adherence to Nature is the expression that accompanies the words. The actor's face is literally suffused with a burning blush; and, as he buries his face in his hands, we almost fancy we see the scalding tears force their way through the trembling fingers and adorn the shame-reddened cheeks." The same writer goes on to praise "the ingenuity and novelty of the glance at the reflection of his dark face in the mirror, which suggests the words, 'Haply for I am black.'" I cannot agree. Othello had been too often reproached with his swarthy skin and likened to the Devil by Desdemona's father to need any such commonplace reminder of his defects, in his agony of doubt. It is, however, a fair ground for difference of opinion. But when the same artifice is resorted to in the last act to explain the words, "It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul!!"--and Othello is made to take up a toilet-glass which has fallen from Desdemona's hand,--it becomes a vile conceit, unworthy of the situation or of an actor like Fechter. A man does not look in the glass, and talk about his complexion, when he is going to kill what he loves best in life; and if the words are broken and unintelligible, they are all the truer to Nature. The whole of the last act, as arranged by Fechter, is bad. There is no propriety in directing Desdemona to leave her bed and walk about,--to say nothing of the scramble that must ensue when Othello "in mad fury throws her onto the bed" again. But what shall we say of this?