Our arrival, which was anxiously expected, doubtless, really frightened me. More than two thousand persons who were assembled in the station when the train came in, gave a hurrah so terrible that I did not know what was happening. But when M. De Fallesen, manager of the Theater Royal, and the first chamberlain of the king, entered my compartment and begged me to show myself at the window to gratify the curiosity of the public, the hurrahs began again, and then I understood. But a dreadful anxiety now took possession of me. I could never, I was sure, rise to what was expected from me. My slender frame would inspire disdain in those magnificent men and those splendid and healthy women. I stepped out of the train so diminished by comparison that I had the sensation of being nothing more than a breath of air; and I saw the crowd, submissive to the police, divide into two compact lines, leaving a large way for my carriage. I passed slowly through this double hedge of sympathetic sightseers, who threw me flowers and kisses and lifted their hats to me. I have had afterwards, in the course of my long career, many triumphs, receptions and ovations; but my reception by the Danish people remains one of my most cherished souvenirs. The living hedge lasted till we reached the Hotel d’Angleterre where I went in, after once more thanking the sympathetic friends who surrounded me.
In the evening, the King and Queen and their daughter, the Princess of Wales, were present at the first performance of “Adrienne Lecouvreur.”
This is what the Figaro of the 16th August, 1880, said:
“Sarah Bernhardt has played ‘Adrienne Lecouvreur’ with a tremendous success before a magnificent public. The royal family, the King and the Queen of the Hellènes, as well as the Princess of Wales, were present at the performance. The Queens threw their bouquets to the French artiste, midst applause. It was an unprecedented triumph. The public was delirious. To-morrow ‘Froufrou’ will be played.”
The performances of “Froufrou” were equally successful. But as I was playing only every other day I wanted to visit Elsinore. The King placed the royal steamer at my disposal for this little journey.
I had invited all my company.
M. De Fallesen, the first chamberlain and manager of the Theater Royal, caused a magnificent lunch to be served for us, and accompanied by the principal notabilities of Denmark we visited Hamlet’s tomb, the Spring of Ophelia, and the Castle of Marienlyst. Then we went over the Castle of Cronburg. I regretted my visit to Elsinore. The reality did not come up to the expectation. The so-called Tomb of Hamlet is represented by a small column, ugly and mournful looking; there is little verdure and the desolate sadness of deceit without beauty. They gave me a little water from the Spring of Ophelia to drink and the Baron de Fallesen broke the glass without allowing anyone else to drink from the spring.
I returned from this very ordinary journey feeling rather sad. Leaning against the side of the vessel I watched the water gliding past, when I noticed a few rose petals emerge, which carried by an invisible current were borne against the sides of the boat; then the petals increased to thousands and in the mysterious sunset rose the melodious chant of the sons of the North. I looked up. In front of us, rocked on the water by the evening breeze, was a pretty boat with outspread sails: a score of young men, throwing handfuls of roses into the waters, which were carried to us by the little wavelets, were singing the marvelous legends of past centuries. And all that was for me: all those roses, all that love, all that musical poetry. And the setting sun—it was also for me. And in this fleeting moment which brought near me all the beauty of life, I felt myself very near to God.
The following day, at the close of the performance, the King had called me before him into the royal box and he decorated me with a very pretty Order of Merit adorned with diamonds. He kept me some time in his box asking me about a lot of things. I was presented to the Queen and I noticed immediately that she was somewhat deaf. I was rather embarrassed, but the Queen of Greece came to my rescue. She was beautiful, but much less so than her lovely sister, the Princess of Wales. Oh, that adorable and seductive face! with the eyes of a child of the North and classic features of virginal purity, a long supple neck that seemed made for queenly bows, a sweet and almost timid smile. The indefinable charm of this princess made her so radiant that I saw nothing but her, and I left the box leaving behind me, I fear, but a doubtful opinion of my intelligence with the royal couples of Denmark and Greece.
The evening before my departure I was invited to a grand supper. Fallesen made a speech, and thanked us in a very well-turned manner for the French week which we had given in Denmark.