ows itself eager to learn even the most insignificant details
concerning their manner of life, their tastes, their slightest
peculiarities. When I attended the theater, whether in my short
intervals of leisure or in the suite of his Majesty, I remarked how
keenly the spectators enjoyed the presentation on the stage, of some
grand historic personage; whose costume, gestures, bearing, even his
infirmities and faults, were delineated exactly as they have been
transmitted to us by contemporaries. I myself always took the greatest
pleasure in seeing these living portraits of celebrated men, and well
remember that on no occasion did I ever so thoroughly enjoy the stage as
when I saw for the first time the charming piece of The Two Pages.
Fleury in the role of Frederick the Great reproduced so perfectly the
slow walk, the dry tones, the sudden movements, and even the
short-sightedness of this monarch, that as soon as he appeared on the
stage the whole house burst into applause. It was, in the opinion of
persons sufficiently well informed to judge, a most perfect and faithful
presentation; and though for my own part, I was not able to say whether
the resemblance was perfect or not, I felt that it must be. Michelot,
whom I have since seen in the same role, gave me no less pleasure than
his predecessor; and it is evident that both these talented actors must
have studied the subject deeply, to have learned so thoroughly and
depicted so faithfully the characteristics of their model.

I must confess a feeling of pride in the thought that these memoirs may
perhaps excite in my readers some of the same pleasurable emotions which
I have here attempted to describe; and that perhaps in a future, which
will inevitably come, though far distant now perhaps, the artist who will
attempt to restore to life, and hold up to the view of the world, the
greatest man of this age, will be compelled, in order to give a faithful
delineation, to take for his model the portrait which I, better than any
one else, have been able to draw from fife. I think that no one has done
this as yet; certainly not so much in detail.

On his return from Egypt the Emperor was very thin and sallow, his skin
was copper-colored, his eyes sunken, and his figure, though perfect, also
very thin. The likeness is excellent in the portrait which Horace Vernet
drew in his picture called "A Review of the First Consul on the Place
du Carrousel." His forehead was very high, and bare