When I left the theater I met poor Bornier quite transfigured. He thanked me a thousand times, for he thought very highly of this scene, but dared not thwart Emile Augier. Both Perrin and myself had divined the legitimate emotions of this poor poet, so gentle and so well brought up, but a trifle Jesuitical.
The play was a big success. But the window scene on the night of the first presentation was a veritable triumph.
It was a short time after the terrible war of 1870. The play contained frequent allusions to this, and, owing to the patriotism of the public, had an even greater success than it deserved as a play. I had Emile Augier called. He came into my dressing-room with a surly air and called to me from the door:
“So much the worse for the public! It only proves that the public is an idiot to make a success of such vileness!” And he disappeared without having even entered my dressing-room.
His outburst made me laugh, and as the triumphant Bornier had embraced me repeatedly, I hugged myself in glee.
SARAH BERNHARDT PAINTING, 1878–9.
Two months later I played “Gabrielle,” by this same Augier, and I had incessant quarrels with him. I found the verses of this play execrable. Coquelin, who took the part of my husband, had a grand success. As for me, I was as mediocre as the play itself, which is saying much.
I had been admitted Associate in the month of January, and since then it seemed to me that I was in prison, for I had undertaken the engagement not to leave Molière’s Theater for several years. This idea made me sad. It was Perrin who had instigated me to ask to become Associate, and now I regretted it very much.
Almost all the latter part of the year I played only occasionally.