could have given you such information? In spite of all the infamous
slanders that must have been poured into your ear, I still think
you a friend with a little kindness for me. I give you my word
of honour that I have never worn man’s clothes here in London; I
did not even bring my suit with me. I absolutely deny the story.
I went once, and only once, to the little exhibition I organized,
and that was the day on which admission was by invitation only.
Consequently it is false to say that a single shilling was paid
on purpose for any one to see me. It is true that I give private
performances, but you are aware that I am one of the worst paid
_sociétaires_ of the Comédie Française, and I am entitled to make
up the difference. That I am exhibiting sixteen pictures and eight
pieces of sculpture is perfectly true, but as I brought them here
to sell them I must let them be seen. With regard to the respect
due to the House of Molière, my dear M. Wolff, I maintain that I
uphold it better than anybody, because I am incapable of inventing
such slanders on one of its standard-bearers. If the silly stories
told about me have wearied the Parisians and decided them, as you
lead me to fear, to give me a bad reception, I will not expose any
one to the possibility of having to commit an act of cowardice, and
I will hand in my resignation. If the London public is incensed
against me by the rumours in circulation, and has decided to change
its kindness into hostility, I hope the Comédie will allow me to
leave England at once, so that the company may not experience the
pain of seeing one of their number hooted and hissed. I send you
this letter by telegraph--a piece of extravagance justified by the
importance I attach to public opinion. I beg you, my dear Monsieur
Wolff, to accord my letter at least as much consideration as you
have given to the calumnies circulated by my enemies.
With a friendly hand-shake, I am, etc.,
SARAH BERNHARDT.
[Illustration: Mme. Sarah Bernhardt as sculptor.]
She then handed her formal resignation to Got, the _doyen_ of the
Comédie Française. Her colleagues, who fully understood how greatly
she contributed to the success of the company, insisted on her
withdrawing her resignation, made her a _sociétaire_ with a full share
in the profits, promised her two months’ holiday every year, and, in
short, concealed the iron hand of interest under the velvet glove of
amiability. Emile Zola took up his vigorous pen and treated M. Albert
Wolff’s hypocritical arguments with scant ceremony--
One of the principal grievances against her is that she has not
confined herself to dramatic art, but has also taken up sculpture,
painting, and what not. This is too absurd! Not content with
calling her thin and treating her as a lunatic, people want to
decide how she is to use her spare time! She might as well be in
prison. As a matter of fact she is not actually denied the right to
practise painting and sculpture, but she is calmly told that she
must not exhibit her works. This pretension is simply unmitigated
rubbish. We had better pass a law at once to forbid the plurality
of talents. And Mlle. Sarah Bernhardt’s style is considered to have
so much individuality that she has been accused of passing off
other people’s work as her own!
M. Sarcey indulged in a species of funeral oration--
Mlle. Sarah Bernhardt has given in her resignation. The Comédie
will lose a charming actress in her, and will have to temporarily
abandon certain pieces which it will be almost impossible to
perform without her. These pieces, however, are not many. Mlle.
Bernhardt is a heavenly lyre, but she has only two or three
strings. I regret that we must do without her, but, as we know, no
one is indispensable. Actors come and go and their places are soon
filled up, however exceptional their talents may be. No actress,
however great, can walk off with the House of Molière sticking to
the soles of her boots. It will be interesting to see how Mlle.
Bernhardt will succeed when she follows an _impresario_ and tries
her powers on uneducated audiences ignorant of our language. But,
after all, these melancholy reflections are perhaps uncalled for.
The matter may still be put right. Who knows?
[Illustration: Mme. Sarah Bernhardt as painter.]
[Illustration: Caricature by André Gill.]
The matter was, in fact, put right, but only temporarily. The Théâtre
Français re-opened its doors on August 2nd, with _Les Femmes Savantes_
and _Le Malade Imaginaire_. At midnight the curtain rose for the
well-known ceremony carried out on such occasions. All the artists of
the Comédie came forward, two by two, according to the time-honoured
custom, bowed to the public, and took their seats. Loud, continued, and
hearty applause burst forth from every part of the house when Mlle.
Sarah Bernhardt came slowly forward to the footlights. It was her
formal reconciliation with the Paris public. “We are all delighted
about it,” said M. Sarcey, “and we hope the ‘row’ will be a lesson to
all concerned.”
[Illustration: Sketch by Mme. Sarah Bernhardt.]
All’s well that ends well; but unfortunately in this case the end had
not been reached. The year 1880 witnessed a great event in Mlle. Sarah
Bernhardt’s life: the severance of her connection with the Comédie
Française. On April 17th, _L’Aventurière_, by Emile Augier, was
revived, Mlle. Sarah Bernhardt taking the difficult part of Clorinde.
The newspapers gave her full credit for her usual ability and charm,
but qualified their praise to an unmistakable extent. M. Sarcey wrote
in the _Temps_--
Mlle. Sarah Bernhardt’s costume hardly struck me as suitable. She
came on the stage with a head-dress exactly like a nightcap. Her
comprehension of the part was still more unsatisfactory. It is
difficult to understand what she intended to make of the character.
Her Clorinde was absolutely colourless.
In the _Moniteur Universal_, Paul de Saint-Victor devoted several
columns of scathing and even savage criticism to an attack on Mlle.
Sarah Bernhardt. Knowing her hold on the public, she might have ignored
this hostility, but her cup of bitterness was filled to overflowing by
M. Auguste Vitu, who, though a courteous and moderate critic, wrote as
follows in the _Figaro_--
During the last two acts, the new Clorinde indulged in uncalled-for
exaggerations. She not merely forced a voice which is pleasing only
when used in moderation, but she managed her body and arms in a
style which would do very well for Virginie in _L’Assommoir_, but
is out of place at the Comédie Française.
This was more than Mlle. Sarah Bernhardt could bear. She sat down and
wrote the following letter to M. Perrin--
MONSIEUR L’ADMINISTRATEUR,
You made me play before I was ready. You gave me only eight stage
rehearsals, and there were only three full rehearsals of the piece.
I could not make up my mind to appear under such conditions, but
you insisted upon it. What I foresaw has come to pass, and the
result of the performance has even gone beyond what I expected. One
critic actually charges me with playing Virginie in _L’Assommoir_
instead of Doña Clorinde in _L’Aventurière_! I appeal to Zola and
Emile Augier. This is my first failure at the Comédie Française,
and it shall be my last. I warned you at the dress rehearsal,
but you took no notice. I now keep my word. When you receive
this letter I shall have left Paris. Be good enough, Monsieur
l’Administrateur, to accept my resignation as from this moment, and
to believe me, etc.,
SARAH BERNHARDT.
_April 18, 1880._
Immediately after writing this letter Mlle. Sarah Bernhardt took the
train to Havre, and ran to earth at Sainte-Adresse. A terrible uproar
followed. The entire Press, the Comédie, the author of the unlucky
play, and the public assailed the fugitive with showers of violent
invective and cutting sarcasm. The _sociétaires_ of the Comédie
were hastily summoned to a meeting, and they decided to take legal
proceedings with a view to obtaining--
(1) The exclusion of Mlle. Sarah Bernhardt from all rights as a
_sociétaire_ of the Comédie Française.
(2) The confiscation of her proportion of the reserve fund,
amounting to over forty thousand francs.
(3) Three hundred thousand francs damages.
The critics were unanimously against her. Paul de Saint-Victor
opened all the flood-gates of his controversial invective. M. Sarcey
indulged in prophecy, and delivered himself of the following oracular
saying--“She had better not try to deceive herself. _Her success will
not be lasting. She is not one of those artistes who can bear the whole
weight of a piece on their own shoulders, and who require no assistance
to hold the public attention._”
M. Emile Augier, who had expected great things from the revival of his
play, was much annoyed by the defection of the principal exponent.
He wrote M. Perrin a letter in which he attempted to conceal his
irritation under the mask of irony--
She was as well prepared as she could be. I go further, and say she
played quite as well as usual, with all her defects and all her
good qualities, with which art has nothing to do. Moreover, she
obtained as much applause as ever from an adoring public. What,
then, was the cause of the trouble? The Press indulged in some
uncomplimentary remarks, and Mlle. Sarah Bernhardt does not like
this kind of thing. With whom does the fault lie? Evidently with
messieurs the critics, who have hitherto treated her as a spoilt
child. Are these ungrateful Athenians beginning to tire of her
success, and to think it unjustified?
M. Emile Zola, whose devotion to the cause of generosity and courage
does not date from yesterday, was almost the only journalist to take
Mlle. Sarah Bernhardt’s part, or rather to point out the faults on
both sides, and to make the voice of wisdom heard amid this outburst
of passion. He reminded Sarah that “it is sometimes an honour to be
attacked.” Whilst Emile Zola, and also Emile de Girardin, lifted up
their voices for peace and reconciliation, Mlle. Sarah Bernhardt in her
retirement at Sainte-Adresse enthusiastically proclaimed her joy at
what she called her deliverance. “Do you know how much I earned?” she
asked a representative of the _Gaulois_. “Barely thirty thousand francs
a year. That may be all very well for people who intend to remain
on the stage until they are fifty or sixty years old, but in twenty
years’ time shall I still be in this world? I have always had a horror
of growing old on the stage, and I don’t mean to do it.” Her feeling
was in fact so strong on this point that she incontinently adopted an
heroic resolution--to leave the stage! It had already caused her too
much suffering, she said, and she was quite decided not to die on it.
She thus announced the result of her cogitations to the representative
of the _Gaulois_--
“Yes, it’s all settled. I have learnt painting and sculpture, and I
intend to live by that. My sales bring me in thirty thousand francs a
year. My brush and chisel will make me a second existence, much calmer
and more profitable than the first.”
Observing her guest’s astonishment, she added, gravely, “with a sad
smile which rendered doubt impossible”--
“I came to this decision when I made up my mind to leave the Comédie
Française.”
Gradually the storm subsided, and the affair began to be forgotten.
The only allusions made to it were when some other artiste took up one
of Mlle. Sarah Bernhardt’s parts. The _Figaro_, for instance, amiably
remarked--
M. Emile Augier last night assured Mlle. Croizette, who was playing
Sarah Bernhardt’s _rôle_ in _L’Aventurière_, that this was the
first time he had known any artiste form an intelligent conception
of the character of Clorinde.
[Illustration: As Adrienne Lecouvreur.]
According to M. Sarcey--
Mlle. Bartet has begun to appear as the Queen in _Ruy Blas_, the
part formerly taken by Mlle. Sarah Bernhardt. Mlle. Bartet is
meeting with considerable success.
It was a very neat way of saying to the fugitive--
“You see after all, you are not indispensable.”
Here is another specimen of the kind remarks which the newspapers took
a keen joy in circulating. It was reported that Sarah had said, “I
shall never forgive Victor Hugo for letting Mlle. Bartet play the Queen
in _Ruy Blas_,” to which the poet had retorted that Mlle. Bartet played
the part so well that her name deserved to be indissolubly connected
with it in future.
Exactly a month after her sensational resignation, Sarah Bernhardt
went to London, not, as might have been supposed, to sell some of
her works of art, but to give a series of performances with Mlles.
Lalb and Jeanne Bernhardt, and MM. Dieudonné and Berton. She met with
considerable success, especially in _Adrienne Lecouvreur_, _Froufrou_,
and _Rome Vaincue_. While she was tasting the joys of this apotheosis,
she was by no means forgotten in the city she had abandoned. On the
18th June, the First Chamber of the Civil Tribunal resounded for
three mortal hours with her name, and in spite of all the skill of
her counsel, Maître Barboux, the Court ordered her to pay the Comédie
Française 100,000 francs damages, and to forfeit all right to her
share (about 44,000 francs) of the reserve fund. Her flight thus turned
out to be an expensive affair. There was nothing for it but to pay,
and this was the beginning of the peregrinations destined to spread
Sarah’s fame beyond the seas. In August we find her travelling through
Sweden, Norway, and Denmark. One of those numerous incidents which have
caused incorrigible patriotism to be numbered among Sarah’s virtues,
occurred at Copenhagen. In the course of a _fête_ given in her honour,
the German Minister, Baron Magnus, proposed the health of _la belle
France_. Sarah Bernhardt immediately interposed with--
“I beg your pardon, Baron, but you mean the whole of France, don’t you?”
The German Minister found himself in so awkward a predicament that he
promptly left the room, and it was supposed that he had discovered an
allusion to Alsace-Lorraine in Sarah’s remark.
[Illustration: As Adrienne Lecouvreur.]
She returned to Paris, but left again almost immediately. On the 10th
September she was at Nantes, and afterwards she appeared at Bordeaux,
Toulouse, Lyons, and Geneva. She excited wild enthusiasm everywhere.
Medals bearing her image and superscription, Sarah Bernhardt bracelets
and collars, photographs and biographies were sold in the streets. At
Lyons, the Khedive’s son unsuccessfully offered £80 for a stage-box.
The Old World soon ceased to afford sufficient scope for her activity.
On the 16th October, 1880, she realized a long-cherished desire, and
sailed from Havre to America on a tour, under Mr. Abbey’s management.
She took with her all her company, her servants, and twenty-eight
trunks containing innumerable dresses and particularly one which she
was to wear in _La Dame aux Camélias_. This wonderful toilette had cost
£480, and fifty work-girls, so the story ran, had toiled for a whole
month to embroider the camellias on the mantle. Mr. Abbey had promised
the actress a small fortune: £100 for every performance, plus half the
receipts above £480. Sarah extended her journey to nearly every part of
the States. From the date of her _début_ at New York, on 10th November,
she was incessantly on the move. She appeared at Boston, Hartford,
Montreal, Baltimore, Philadelphia, Chicago, St. Louis, Cincinnati,
etc. Her _répertoire_ included _Adrienne Lecouvreur_, _Froufrou_,
_Hernani_, _Phèdre_, _Le Passant_, and _La Dame aux Camélias_. She
became the proprietor of a tame alligator, who soon succumbed to the
champagne diet she inflicted on him. At length, on the 16th May, 1881,
she landed in triumph at Havre, and was greeted by a cohort of friends
from Paris, and by a crowd estimated, somewhat rashly perhaps, by the
_Figaro_, at 50,000 persons. She had earned £36,800 in one hundred and
sixty-six performances. Out of this sum she handed £4000 over to her
agent, Jarrett, and £16,000 to her legal representatives in Paris.
Her travelling expenses amounted to about £8000, so that after paying
all her debts she was left with a balance of £8800. She brought back
from America not only this respectable sum, but something else: the
remembrance of great ovations, unprecedented triumphs, and adventures
in which she invariably preserved her dignity. One day she happened to
enter a Protestant church and heard the minister denounce her as
an “imp of darkness, a female demon sent from the modern Babylon to
corrupt the New World.” Before the day was over, the clergyman received
this note--
MY DEAR CONFRÈRE,
Why attack me so violently? Actors ought not to be hard on one
another.
SARAH BERNHARDT.
[Illustration: Mme. Sarah Bernhardt in travelling costume, during her
first American tour.]
On her return to France, she treated her compatriots to such a surprise
as only a _grand seigneur_ could have conceived. She was urged by
a charitable association at Havre to give a performance in aid of
the funds, and two days after landing she performed _La Dame aux
Camélias_--the same play which had been applauded all over the world
for a year before under the name of _Camille_, but which she had never
yet performed in France. When she appeared as Marguerite Gauthier, on
the 18th of May, 1881, before the Havre public and many of her Paris
friends, including Halanzier, Lapommeraye, Clairin, Busnach, Abbéma,
and many others, her reception was a perfect triumph. And yet Dumas had
said of the part, “It is not made for her!”
After her long journey it might have been supposed that she would
rest on her laurels for a time, but she did nothing of the kind.
In June she was in London, and arrangements were soon in progress
for a long European tour, to commence in October. Before that date
she accomplished another French tour under the management of M.
Félix Duquesnel, who undertook to give her £2800 for thirty-five
performances of _Hernani_ and _La Dame aux Camélias_, between August
27th and October 4th, with Paul Mounet as Hernani and Angelo as Armand
Duval. M. Duquesnel was the same manager who, years before, paid her
six pounds per month out of his own pocket at the Odéon. He was now
getting his money back, with interest. Her French tour completed,
she started again, almost without waiting to take breath, on her
great European expedition, under the management of Mr. Jarrett, who
had accompanied her to America. She visited Russia, Spain, Austria,
Holland, Belgium, Italy, Denmark, Sweden, and Norway: the whole of
Europe, in fact, except Germany, that country being expressly omitted
from the contract. She opened her tour at the Mint Theatre, Brussels,
the King of the Belgians making a hasty return to the capital from his
country seat in the Ardennes to see her. At Vienna she organized an
exhibition of her works of art. She next entered Russia, and reached
Moscow on the 10th December. The last sentence of the following
telegram published in the newspapers gives a fair idea of the sensation
she excited--
Moscow, December 10.--Sarah Bernhardt is extremely hoarse and
cannot perform this evening. General consternation prevails.
[Illustration: Mme. Sarah Bernhardt and her friends at Sainte-Adresse.]
Her success, however, was not unmixed. She was known to be of Jewish
origin, and the Russian fanatics did not omit to remind her of it. At
Odessa she was pelted with stones, and at Kieff she was insulted.
But these things were mere trifles. At St. Petersburg her coming
created as much excitement as if it had been an event of national
importance. The prices charged for the series of twelve performances
are significant.
_Roubles_ £ _s._ _d._
Pit boxes 120 = 13 0 0
Dress circle boxes (front seats) 150 = 16 5 0
Dress circle (centre box) 180 = 19 10 0
Dress circle front row 72 = 7 15 0
Dress circle 2nd and 3rd rows 60 = 6 10 0
Upper boxes (front) 150 = 16 5 0
Her success was prodigious. Not content with raining flowers on the
stage, ladies in the audience jumped over the partition separating
them from the pit, so that they could approach the great artiste as
closely as possible. She would have received many costly presents had
she not made it known that she would accept nothing but flowers. At
length she tore herself away from her enthusiastic admirers, to whom
she had appeared in _La Princesse Georges_, _Rome Vaincue_, _Hernani_,
_Jean Marie_, and _La Dame aux Camélias_. From St. Petersburg she
went to Warsaw, and thence to Genoa, where she was seized with one of
those sudden attacks which had recurred rather too frequently for some
time past. In the middle of the second act of _La Dame aux Camélias_
she collapsed into a chair with blood pouring from her mouth. The
performance was stopped, but on the following day the indefatigable
woman was _en route_ again. After playing at Bâle and Lausanne, she
gave a series of six performances, beginning on the 16th of February at
Lyons, where she appeared in _Les Faux Ménages_, by Pailleron. Then she
returned to Italy, receiving £240 for each appearance, and meeting with
enthusiastic applause everywhere. She left Italy, and suddenly Paris
was struck dumb by the following extraordinary and totally unexpected
announcement, published by the newspapers on the 8th April--
London.--At eight o’clock this (Tuesday) morning, April 4th, at the
Greek Consulate, Sarah Bernhardt was married to her fellow-actor
_Daria_, who recently took Angelo’s place in her troupe. The news
may appear improbable, seeing that Sarah was at Naples last Friday,
and even performed that evening; but it is none the less a fact
that she left Naples on the following morning, ostensibly for Nice,
took the train on to Paris, and thence to Boulogne, crossed to
Folkestone, and finally reached London, accompanied by M. Damala.
Marriage was, in fact, the only eccentricity Sarah had not yet
perpetrated, but she was now enabled to make up for lost time with
the kind assistance of M. Damala, an actor by choice, but formerly an
_attaché_ in the Greek diplomatic service. The newly-married couple
began the first quarter of their honeymoon by immediately taking the
train for Marseilles, whence they started by special steamer on April
5th for Spain, to continue the tour. They returned to Marseilles on
May 5th, and performed at Grenoble, Geneva, Rouen, and Brussels. On
the 26th, a benefit performance was given at Paris for the widow
of M. Chéret, and Sarah Bernhardt and her husband played _La Dame aux
Camélias_ for the first time in the French capital. The performance, a
triumphal success, brought in 59,051 francs (£2362).
[Illustration: As Léa.]
Her wanderings soon began again. London, Brighton, Blackpool,
Manchester, and Scotland saw the wonderful artiste. In the meantime it
was announced that she had made arrangements for a four months’ tour
in America, and that she and her husband were to be paid £40,000 for
fifty performances. Then it became known that after so many wanderings
Sarah was to return to Paris and appear in a new play, _Fédora_, by
M. Sardou, at the Vaudeville. She had been promised £40 a night for
a minimum of a hundred performances. The _première_ on December,
12, 1882, met, with considerable success, but while the perfomances
were proceeding the financial difficulties with which the artiste
had long been struggling were revealed to the public. She had spent
money very freely, and omitted to balance her income and expenditure.
She carried out all sorts of wild schemes, such as that of buying
the Ambigu theatre for her son Maurice, then seventeen years of age.
The affair turned out a very expensive one, and in February 1883,
big placards posted on the walls of Paris announced that Mme. Sarah
Bernhardt-Damala’s diamonds and jewellery were to be sold by auction
on the 8th, 9th, and 10th, at the Hôtel des Ventes. The announcement
created a great sensation, much to the vendor’s advantage, the sale
producing no less than £7128. Actresses such as Mme. Marie Magnier,
Marthe Devoyo, and Julia de Cléry, well-known _demi-mondaines_,
collectors, and boulevardiers, competed for the wonders of Sarah’s
jewel-case. The importance of the sale may be estimated by the
following lots, and the prices at which they were knocked down--
Very handsome single necklace thickly set with rose £
diamonds and enriched with brilliants 960
Bracelet, 573 pearls in nine rows 321
Bracelet 302
Brooch 150
[Illustration: M. Damala.]