ss almost
always wears a wig--is unkempt and decayed; his white cravat has a
burlesque air; and his gloves are of cotton. There are even stories
extant of very economical "supers" who have gone halves in a pair of
"berlins," and even expended rouge on but one side of their faces,
pleading that they were required to stand only on the right or the
left of the stage, as the case might be, and as they could thus be
seen but in profile by the audience, these defects in their appearance
could not possibly attract notice. Altogether the "super's" least
effective performance is that of "a guest."

It is a real advance for a "super" when he is charged with some small
theatrical task, which removes him from the ranks of his fellows. He
acquires individuality, though of an inferior kind. But his promotion
entails responsibilities for which he is not always prepared. Lekain,
the French tragedian, playing the part of Tancred, at Bordeaux,
required a supernumerary to act as his squire, and carry his helmet,
lance, and shield. Lekain's personal appearance was insignificant, and
his manner at rehearsal had been very subdued. The "super" thought
little of the hero he was to serve, and deemed his own duties slight
enough. But at night Lekain's majesty of port, and the commanding tone
in which he cried, _"Suivez moi!"_ to his squire, so startled and
overcame that attendant that he suddenly let fall, with a great crash,
the weapons and armour he was carrying. Something of the same kind has
often happened upon our own stage. "You distressed me very much, sir,"
said a famous tragedian once to a "super," who had committed default
in some important business of the scene. "Not more than you frightened
me, sir," the "super" frankly said. He was forgiven his failure on
account of the homage it conveyed to the tragedian's impressiveness.

M. Etienne Arago, writing some years since upon _les choristes_, calls
attention to the important services rendered to the stage by its mute
performers, and demands their wider recognition. He ventures to hold
that as much talent is necessary to constitute a tolerable _figurant_
as to make a good actor. He describes the _figurant_ as a multiform
actor, a dramatic chameleon, compelled by the special nature of his
occupation, or rather by its lack of special nature, to appear young
or old, crooked or straight, noble or base-born, savage or civilised,
according to the good pleasure of the dramatist. "Thus, when Tan