SIR THOMAS MORE BIDDING FAREWELL TO HIS FAVOURITE DAUGHTER
NAPOLEON
An example of how historical accuracy should be striven for. The success of this presentation depends on the actor more or less definitely resembling the first Emperor of the French.
In my own case the only change I had to make in my appearance was to have my hair suitably cut.
I went to infinite pains however to have each part of the costume an exact copy of that he wore.
As very few prints are seen of Napoleon in Coronation robes, perhaps the illusion will not be so striking as it would have been had I chosen to represent him wearing his well-known hat. I preferred however to represent a less hackneyed picture.
NAPOLEON
Diderot. I have seen him on his throne.
Barbeillon. Was it wonderful?
Diderot. Wonderful! He looks like a baby swaddled in glory, sitting on his high chair.
Barbeillon. Well?
Diderot. It was wonderfully pitiful and pitifully wonderful. So terribly final. There he sat like a bad boy who had stolen the toyshop. He knows that no new thing may be created, so he sifts the old, and selecting the best puts them together as children build with blocks.
He assembles with a perfection which sickens. Triumphant arch or wedding trousseau is arranged with equal facility.
Barbeillon. How was he dressed?
Diderot. The dandy of eternity, he had been to the clothing bazaar of time; taken what he fancied—Cæsar's hat, Queen Elizabeth's collar, Louis' cloak.
Barbeillon. Extraordinary!
Diderot. I know; but it was all so right. Round his neck a chain, an aviary of linked golden eagles. On his breast a mighty cross of five points as if it were built to crucify the senses of the world upon. In its centre a great N, the symbol of negation to humanity. No! no! no! it said to all mankind. But I felt from the look in his eyes that it had burnt through to his own heart. He is not blazing satisfaction, only smouldering discontent.
I wonder if he'll smoulder out.
From a Play by Cavendish Morton.