ning the nose and forehead.
And especially the manager took pride in the capillary artifices of
his establishment, and employed an "artist in hair," who held almost
arrogant views of his professional acquirements. "My claim to the
grateful remembrance of posterity," this superb _coiffeur_ was wont to
observe, "will consist in the fact that I made the wig in which
Monsieur Talma performed his great part of Sylla!" The triumphs of the
scene are necessarily short-lived; they exist only in the recollection
of actual spectators, and these gradually dwindle and depart as Time
goes and Death comes. Nevertheless something of this wig-maker's fame
still survives, although Talma has been dead nearly half a century.

As Sylla, Talma was "made up" to resemble the first Napoleon. Macready
writes in his "Journal" of Talma's appearance as Sylla: "The toga sat
upon him as if it had been his daily costume. His _coiffure_ might
have been taken from an antique bust; but was in strict resemblance of
Napoleon's. It was reported that several passages had been struck out
of the text by the censor, under the apprehension of their application
by the Parisians to the exiled Emperor; and an order was said to have
been sent from the police forbidding Talma to cross his hands behind
him, the ordinary habit of Napoleon." The tragedy of "Sylla" was
written by M. Jouy, and was first performed at the Theatre Francais in
1822.

CHAPTER XXIV.

"ALARUMS AND EXCURSIONS."

It is clear that playgoers of the Shakespearean period dearly loved to
see a battle represented upon the stage. The great poet thoroughly
understood his public, and how to gratify it. In some fifteen of his
plays he has introduced the encounter or the marshalling of hostile
forces. "Alarums and excursions" is with him a very frequent stage
direction; and as much may be said of "they fight," or "_exeunt_
fighting." Combats and the clash of arms he obviously did not count as
"inexplicable dumb show and noise." He was conscious, however, that
the battles of the stage demanded a very large measure of faith on the
part of the spectators. Of necessity they were required to "make
believe" a good deal. In the prologue to "Henry V." especial apology
is advanced for the presumption of the dramatist in dealing with so
comprehensive a subject; and indulgence is claimed for the unavoidable
feebleness of the representation as compared with the force of the
reality:

Piece out our imp