As Doña Sol in Hernani.
Her celebrity was unmistakably shown by the wild stories which began to be told about her. She was said to have thrown a live kitten on to a fire; to have poisoned with her own fair hands two monkeys which had ceased to please her; to have cut off a dog’s head with a view to solving the question whether life continues after decapitation; the skeleton in her bedroom was all that remained of one of her victims, etc. As a matter of fact, she was then keeping two Russian greyhounds, a poodle, a bulldog, a terrier, a leveret, a parrot, three cats, and several birds. Afterwards she kept lions! Could a woman who was so fond of animals torture them as she was said to have done?
At Bressant’s benefit performance, February 27, 1878, she played two acts from Jean Aicard’s Othello with M. Mounet-Sully, who failed completely. M. Sarcey says—
As for Mlle. Sarah Bernhardt, she simply rescued the piece. Her attitude in the death-agony, her head and arms hanging over the side of the bed, was so fine, graceful, and tragic, that enthusiastic applause came from every part of the house.
M. Auguste Vitu summed up his opinion as follows—
Mlle. Sarah Bernhardt was very fine as Desdemona. It is one of her best creations. I say nothing of M. Mounet-Sully, whose efforts were not a success.
On April 2 she appeared for the first time as Alcmène in Amphitryon. No notice was taken of this in the newspapers. She again played in Zaïre (May 30), and Le Sphinx (October 28), with continued success. In the meantime she made several ascents in Giffard’s captive balloon at the Exhibition, to the great scandal of the Boulevards. An article published by Albert Millaud in the Figaro gives a very good idea of the spirit of gossip then prevailing. Sarah Bernhardt replied to his article in the following letter—
Your kind references to the artiste induce me to write in defence of the woman. Those who persist in dinning me into the ears of the public are clever enemies of mine. It is excessively annoying not to be able to do anything without being accused of eccentricity. I love balloon ascents, but now I dare not indulge in them. I have never skinned dogs or burnt cats alive. My hair is not dyed, and my face has a sufficiently corpse-like pallor to absolve me from the suspicion of painting. I am told that my thinness is eccentric, but what am I to do? I should much prefer to be one of those happy people who are neither too fat nor too thin. My illnesses are said to attract too much attention, but they come without warning and strike me down wherever I may happen to be, and if people are there, so much the worse. I am reproached with trying to do everything: acting, sculpture, and painting; but these things amuse me, and bring me money to spend as best pleases me. Such are my crimes. You have taken my part, perhaps without intending to do so, but none the less I thank you heartily. As you applauded the artiste, I did not like to think that the woman might seem so unpleasant a contrast; and then it is such a pleasure to complain! Thanks for your kindness, Monsieur Millaud.
Sarah Bernhardt.
Mme. Sarah Bernhardt in her travelling costume.