You buy a castle with port-holes--port-holes are necessary--in a corner of some reactionary province.

You call upon the lords of the surrounding castles with a gold fleur-de-lys in your cravat.

You pose as an enraged Legitimist and ferocious Clerical.

You give dinners and hunting parties, and the game is won.

I will wager that your son will marry into a Faubourg St.-Germain family, a family which descends authentically from the Crusaders.
In order to execute this agreeable buffoonery, you must not forget certain accessories--particularly portraits of your ancestors.