In an earlier paragraph, we noticed the way in which the “star system” may be used to advantage by the dramatist to economise the attention of the audience; but it will be observed, on the other hand, that the same system is pernicious in its influence on the actor.  A performer who is accustomed to the centre of the stage often finds it difficult to keep himself in the background at moments when the scene should be dominated by other, and sometimes lesser, actors.  Artistic self-denial is one of the rarest of virtues.  This is the reason why “all-star” performances are almost always bad.  A famous player is cast for a minor part; and in his effort to exploit his talents, he violates the principle of economy of attention by attracting undue notice to a subordinate feature of the performance.  That’s villainous, and shows a most pitiful ambition, as Hamlet truly says.  A rare proof of the genius of the great Coquelin was given by his performances of Pere Duval and the Baron Scarpia in support of the Camille and Tosca of Mme. Sarah Bernhardt.  These parts are both subordinate; and, in playing them, Coquelin so far succeeded in obliterating his own special talents that he never once distracted the attention of the audience from the acting of his fellow star.  This was an artistic triumph worthy of ranking with the same actor’s sweeping and enthralling performance of Cyrano de Bergerac,—­perhaps the richest acting part in the history of the theatre.

A story is told of how Sir Henry Irving, many years ago, played the role of Joseph Surface at a special revival of The School for Scandal in which most of the other parts were filled by actors and actresses of the older generation, who attempted to recall for one performance the triumphs of their youth.  Joseph Surface is a hypocrite and a villain; but the youthful grace of Mr. Irving so charmed a lady in the stalls that she said she “could not bear to see those old unlovely people trying to get the better of that charming young man, Mr. Joseph.”  Something must have been wrong with the economy of her attention.

The chief reason why mannerisms of walk or gesture or vocal intonation are objectionable in an actor is that they distract the attention of the audience from the effect he is producing to his method of producing that effect.  Mansfield’s peculiar manner of pumping his voice from his diaphragm and Irving’s corresponding system of ejaculating his phrases through his nose gave to the reading of those great artists a rich metallic resonance that was vibrant with effect; but a person hearing either of those actors for the first time was often forced to expend so much of his attention in adjusting his ears to the novel method of voice production that he was unable for many minutes to fix his mind upon the more important business of the play.  An actor without mannerisms, like the late Adolf von Sonnenthal, is able to make a more immediate appeal.

IV