File:The celebrated portrait of Sarah Bernhardt, painted by Jules Bastien-Lepage.jpg

Identifier: memoriesofmylife00bern (find matches)
Title: Memories of my life : being my personal, professional, and social recollections as woman and artist
Year: 1907 (1900s)
Authors: Bernhardt, Sarah, 1844-1923
Subjects:
Publisher: New York : D. Appleton
Contributing Library: University of California Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: MSN

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mmeraye had said so much againstme that I was stupefied to learn from Mayer that they hadarrived in London to be present at my performances. I did notunderstand it at all. I thought that the Parisian journalistswere leaving me in peace at last, and here were my worstenemies coming across the sea to see and hear me. Perhaps theywere hoping, like the Englishman who followed the lion-tamer,to see him devoured by his lions. Vitu, in the Figaro, had finished one of his bitter articlesin these words: But we have heard enough surely, of Mile. Sarah Bern-hardt ! Let her go abroad with her monotonous voice and her funereal fantasies!Here, we have nothing new to learn from her talents or her caprices ... Sareey, in an equally bitter article, apropos of my resigna-tion at the Comedie, finished with these words: ... There comes a time when naughty children must go tobed . . . As to the amiable Lapommeraye, he had showered on raydevoted head all the rumors that he had collected from all sides. 352
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THE CELEBRATED PORTRAIT OF SARAH BERNHARDT, PAINTEDBY JULES BASTIEN-LEPAGE, I AGAIN LEAVE THE COMEDIE FRANgAISE But as they said he had no originality, he tried to show that healso could dip his pen in venom and he had cried: Pleasantjourney! And here they all came, these three, and otherswith them. . . . And the day following my first performanceof Adrienne Lecouvreur, Auguste Vitu telegraphed to theFigaro a long article, in which he criticised me in certain scenes,regretting that I had not followed the example of Rachel, whomI had never seen. And he finished his article with these words: The sincerity of my admiration cannot be doubted when Iavow that in the fifth act Sarah Bernhardt rose to a height ofdramatic power, to a force of expression which could not besurpassed. She played the long and cruel scene in which Ad-rienne, poisoned by the Duchesse de Bouillon, struggles againstdeath in her fearful agony, not only with immense talent, butwith a science of art which up to the prese

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