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 Susit antr tlje 
 
 BY 
 
 VICTOR MAPES. 
 
 WITH INTRODUCTION 
 BY DANIEL FROHMAN. 
 
 m i^ctD*iotft, 1898. m 
 
 m 
 
This is a reprint of an edition of two hundred and 
 sixty copies printed from type for the Dunlap Society 
 in the month of March, 1898. 
 
DUSE AND THE FRENCH 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2007 with funding from 
 
 IVIicrosoft Corporation 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/dusefrenchOOmaperich 
 
ELEONORA DUSE. 
 
DUSE AND THE 
 FRENCH 
 
 BY 
 
 VICTOR MAPES 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY DANIEL FROHMAN 
 
 iilf 
 
 NEW-YORK 
 
 THE DUNLAP SOCIETY 
 
 1898 
 

 
 y 
 
 THE CAREY PRESS, 
 NEW YORK. 
 
 Copyright, 1898, by 
 Victor Mapes. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The artistic career of Madame Duse in America 
 resulted in so strong and pervading a stimulus to dra- 
 matic art, that the paper herewith presented by Victor 
 Mapes, recounting the actress's recent first appearance 
 in Paris, her apparent failure and ultimate triumph in 
 that self-arrogated capital of all the arts, will be of 
 especial interest to the members of the Dunlap Society. 
 Madame Duse's visit to our country is not yet remote 
 enough to have lost its interest, and the memory of her 
 triumphs cannot be recalled without a thrill. Her 
 methods, free from all that is bizarre or theatrical, the 
 tones of her voice, the unobtrusiveness of her effects, 
 and the towering and convincing force of her creations, 
 offered an example in the art of acting which will long 
 continue to exert a beneficial influence upon the work 
 of the men and women of our stage. The fact that 
 among English-speaking countries she was virtually 
 "discovered" in New York, is significant of the taste 
 and discrimination of our theatre-goers. She played 
 before a comparatively small audience on her first ap- 
 
 M180754 
 
Introauction. 
 
 pearance; but the report of her genius spread with 
 electric rapidity, and seats during her engagement were 
 at a premium. 
 
 Mr. Mapes has lived and studied in Paris, and has 
 made his debut in the French capital as a dramatic 
 author. He writes with the authority, therefore, of a 
 "looker-on in Vienna," and his paper is a picturesque 
 and vivid presentment of the conjunction of two great 
 stars, last summer, in Paris. Whether he is right or 
 not in his theory as to the honesty of Bernhardt's 
 counsels to Duse touching the latter's selection of 
 "Magda" for her initial performance can only be 
 surmised. Bernhardt's advice to the Italian actress, 
 urging her not to appear in the German play, and 
 thus challenging prejudiced attention to this foreign 
 work, presented, too, in a language unfamiliar to an 
 audience of such eager and attentive listeners as the 
 Parisians are, seemed excellent counsel. But to ap- 
 pear as La Dame aux Camelias, Bernhardt's own un- 
 rivaled creation, as the alternative, was undoubtedly 
 suggesting an ordeal of supreme difficulty, carrying 
 with it a result which might well appear to the French 
 actress as fraught with uncertainty, considering her 
 own impregnable position in the hearts of her coun- 
 trymen. Madame Duse's temperament was, unques- 
 tionably, less in accord with the capricious dare-deviltry 
 and high spirits of Dumas's heroine in the earlier 
 
Tntroauctioti. 
 
 scenes than was the many-sided Bernhardt's, the 
 facets of whose character are so varied as to reflect 
 every phase of the demi-mondaine's character. But 
 that Duse succeeded even measurably amid a public 
 who idolized Bernhardt, and triumphed absolutely be- 
 fore the end of her season, was a well-won tribute to 
 her invincible genius. 
 
 The members of the Players' Club hold Madame 
 Duse in grateful remembrance. She visited the club 
 on the morning preceding her departure for Europe. 
 She was amazed and delighted at so noble an institu- 
 tion dedicated to the dramatic profession, and paid a 
 sympathetic tribute to the cherished founder. 
 
 C\f2lc^ ^..jtcL^ , 
 
 February, 1898. 
 
Du$e and tu frencb. 
 
 E LEONORA DUSE'S first visit to France, which 
 occurred last year, was productive of some very 
 curious results. Not only did it give rise to unusual 
 episodes and manifestations, which form quite a nar- 
 rative by themselves; but it had the additional merit 
 of throwing into relief certain characteristics of race 
 and temperament that are apt to be misunderstood. 
 It involved some highly interesting personalities and 
 some instructive questions of art. An importance 
 was attached to it, moreover, both by Duse and by the 
 French, that would seem excessive, if not quite incom- 
 prehensible, from an Anglo-Saxon point of view. Al- 
 together, for those who are amused by the trivialities 
 of life and art, it offered much material for observation. 
 The attitude of the French at the prospect of Duse's 
 coming invites special attention at the outset. Be- 
 sides offering a typical phenomenon in itself, it will 
 help to throw light on all that followed. Let us pause, 
 then, and consider. 
 
2 Du$c and tbc f rencb. 
 
 The French Point of View. 
 
 A WELL-KNOWN trait of the French is their dislike 
 of travel, and, coupled with it, a general indifference 
 for the news of other countries. Most Americans deem 
 it a point of pride to keep themselves in touch with all 
 that is going on, the world over. It is not so with the 
 French. They care very little about the news, so- 
 called, even of their own country : and foreign news, 
 except in unusual instances, they allow to pass quite 
 unheeded. 
 
 On the other hand, they are very fond of discussion. 
 They delight in analyzing their impressions, in ad- 
 vancing new points of view, in turning and re-turning, 
 in a delicate, whimsical way, subjects with which they 
 are thoroughly familiar. Aside from politics, art is 
 their favorite theme. 
 
 Every Frenchman has in him an artist in embryo. 
 He can appreciate and criticize, though he may never 
 have attempted to create. They regard themselves as 
 the artistic race par excellence. They have been so 
 for centuries, they still are, and they cannot conceive 
 that they will ever cease to be. They assume, also, 
 without question, that in all matters of the kind the.v 
 stand as the final arbiters, from whose decision there 
 can be no appeal. 
 
 With regard to foreign productions, their position 
 follows, as a natural consequence. If a painter or 
 sculptor, a writer or an actor, rises to prominence 
 in far-away lands, and the echo of his fame reaches 
 !Paris, the connoisseurs there are in no way disturbed. 
 They smile placidly, and repeat with a shrug: 
 
Du$e mA tbe frcncb. 3 
 
 "We shall see. If it amounts to anything, it will 
 come to Paris. Until then, all talk is smoke." 
 
 It is an accepted condition in their minds, that if 
 any one wishes to enter a claim for immortality, he must 
 come to Paris, and fight his battle there. The lists 
 are open and he will be judged. If not, let him do as 
 he likes — make noise and smoke throughout the uni- 
 verse; time will overtake him, posterity will come, and 
 there will be no record of his achievements in the home 
 of art. 
 
 Such is their point of view. How far it is reason- 
 able and justified is not worth discussing in this con- 
 nection. Inasmuch as the fact exists, we must try to 
 accept it, simply, and bear it in mind. It will aid us 
 to appreciate what happened with '1a Duse." 
 
 Her case was no exception. Echoes of her achieve- 
 ments had found their way to Paris, at intervals, for a 
 number of years. She was known to be the best of the 
 Italian actresses, but that, in itself, did not mean much. 
 She had even had the good fortune to attract the at- 
 tention of Alexandre Dumas, when he stood on the 
 pinnacle of artistic fame. The incident is a curious 
 one. 
 
 Duse had used Italian versions of several plays by 
 Dumas, among others, "La Princesse de Bagdad," 
 which had been hotly criticized in France. In the last 
 act of this play, the crucial scene occurs, when the in- 
 nocent wife, whom circumstances seem to condemn, 
 must convince her husband by her word alone that 
 she is innocent. At the Comedie Fran^aise, where 
 the play was produced. Mile. Croisette, who acted the 
 
4 Du$e and the Trencb. 
 
 wife, threw herself at her husband's feet, in this de- 
 cisive moment, and repeated three times the declara- 
 tion of her innocence: "Jq suis innocente: je te le 
 jure, je te le jure — je te le jure!" In saying this she 
 used, of course, the most convincing tone she could 
 command. But it was not sufficient. The public did 
 not feel that the husband was warranted in believing 
 her, and the effect of the play was lost. An Italian 
 translation was tried in Rome, without Duse, and the 
 scene failed there so conclusively that the play had 
 to be withdrawn after one performance. 
 
 Later, Duse decided to try it, and when the decisive 
 scene arrived, there came to her what Dumas called a 
 "beautiful inspiration." 
 
 After throwing herself at her husband's feet and 
 making her protestation, "Je suis innocente: je te !e 
 jure, je te le jure," seeing that he was still incredu- 
 lous, she rose up, placed her hand on the head of her 
 son, and looking her husband straight in the face, re- 
 peated a third time: "Je te le jure!" That was 
 enough. It turned the tables completely, and the play 
 ended in triumph. 
 
 Dumas incorporated the change in the manuscript 
 of his play, and, in a preface to the final edition of his 
 works, he refers to it with a glowing tribute to Duse. 
 
 Meanwhile the vogue of Duse had been steadily 
 increasing in Italy. She had gone from Verona to 
 Naples, to Venice, to Rome, where she finally estab- 
 lished her reputation as the first actress of the land. 
 Before long, she was tempted abroad. Modesty, it 
 seems, was one of her natural qualities, and it required 
 
Du$e and the f rencb. 
 
 considerable persuasion to induce her to risk her suc- 
 cess before a foreign audience. But she went to Vi- 1 
 enna, and her reception was most enthusiastic. Then j ^ 
 she went to London, and later to America. In both ( '--^~t!^'^ 
 places, the reports of her remarkable talent were more 
 than confirmed. Frenchmen who travel are not very 
 numerous, as has already been stated, but a few of 
 them happened to be in Vienna and London, when 
 Duse was there, and they brought back accounts of her 
 talent to Paris. Some people in London and America 
 had even gone so far as to speak of her in the same 
 breath with Bernhardt. 
 
 The French critics, however, still kept their equa- 
 nimity. They were certainly curious to see this so- 
 called exotic prodigy, but their sceptical attitude was 
 in no way affected. 
 
 "Such things have been heard of before," they said. 
 "Many a bubble has floated over the world, arousing 
 a tumult of admiration, until a prick of intelligence 
 explodes it. People are easily imposed on by notoriety. 
 
 "If this Italian actress is really the great artiste she 
 is claimed to be, why does she avoid the issue? It is 
 easy for her to come to Paris ; why doesn't she come ? 
 She seems afraid to put her talent to the test." 
 
 Duse's Fears. 
 
 "Afraid" — that was the very word. Strange as it 
 might appear to us, Duse, in her heart of hearts, was 
 afraid to go to Paris. This fact came out recently, and, 
 with her accustomed frankness, she did not hesitate to 
 admit it. 
 
6 DH$e ana tbe f rcncb. 
 
 Dumas had urged her to take the step, at the time 
 already alluded to, when she was in the first bloom of 
 her Italian triumph. His letters to her on the subject 
 are still in existence. She was worthy of Paris, he 
 said; she belonged there by right of her talent. She 
 read French, and spoke it fluently; in a year or two 
 she could perfect herself in the language, and then she 
 could try her fortune in the capital. He prophesied a 
 brilliant career for her. 
 
 Other friends and admirers spoke to her in the same 
 strain. 
 
 Ambitious thrills may have passed through her as 
 she thought of the future they promised. Time and 
 again she may have been on the verge of making the 
 venture, but in the end her courage failed her. 
 
 It must be remembered that she looked at Paris 
 with Italian eyes. The two races are closely allied in 
 many essential respects. Their manner of thinking 
 and feeling, their temperament and their traditions, 
 their point-of-view in general, all put them in the 
 same great family. There is nothing to wonder at, 
 therefore, if the Italian actress saw in Paris the Mecca 
 of artistic ambitions, the supreme goal of a great career. 
 
 Nearly all the modern plays she had acted came 
 from there. The actors and actresses who reigned at 
 the top of her profession were to be seen there nightly. 
 The books she read and admired were published within 
 its walls; the artists and critics whose names she in- 
 clined before made it their home. It had all to give, 
 if she went there and triumphed; but it could take 
 away all, if it sent her back home a failure. 
 
Du$e and tM f rencb. ? 
 
 The possibility of this latter alternative awed her. 
 It was not so much that she under-estimated her abil- 
 ity, or that she feared to risk comparison with her 
 French cousins, in fair competition. It is true she 
 had the weakness to admire Bernhardt without re- 
 serve. She had seen her act, and regarded her as a 
 towering genius with whom she could never dream of 
 competing. But her talent was quite dilferent from 
 Bernhardt's, and might win her a place of her own 
 that would amply satisfy her. 
 
 The real reason that she feared disaster in Paris was 
 on account of the language. 
 
 Dumas, in advising her to take the step, had im- 
 plied the necessity of perfecting her French. That, 
 in his mind, was a matter of course. In a general way 
 he referred to a year or two of preliminary study. 
 
 Dumas may have been a masterful playwright, his 
 judgment may have been preeminent on many sub- 
 jects; but had he ever attempted to speak a foreign 
 language without an accent? Had he ever seen a ma- 
 ture man or woman who undertook the study of a 
 language not their own, and succeeded in speaking it 
 precisely as the natives do? Frenchmen are very 
 ready to compliment a stranger on his accent. "In 
 a year or two," they say, "you will speak as well as 
 any of us." It is a polite form of speech, it hurts no- 
 body, and it frequently pleases the stranger. But 
 these same Frenchmen, five minutes later, may hear a 
 man talking near by; he may have lived in Paris 
 twenty or thirty years; but at the first word he utters 
 they will tell you he i& not n Parisian. Even if he 
 
8 Du$e and tbc f rcncb. 
 
 came from the provinces as a young man, the accent is 
 still there to betray him. 
 
 The sound of language has always been a very im- 
 portant consideration for the French. In reading a 
 book, or even a newspaper, they listen to the harmony 
 of the words, which are silently echoed in their im- 
 agination. When it comes to the stage, the value of 
 the sounds is a matter of almost paramount impor- 
 tance. The fact is apt to be overlooked by foreigners, 
 sometimes with amusing results. 
 
 Certain plays, for instance, which are produced in 
 Paris with notable success, are little more than vehi- 
 cles of language. This language is composed by a 
 master, in verses of beautiful effect; it is varied and 
 harmonious; and at every opportunity it is allowed to 
 spread itself into tirades, which soar on in sustained 
 flight for minutes at a time. The French listen to it 
 Tike music; it fills and fascinates them, and gives them 
 a pleasure of the highest kind. The plot of the story 
 and the incidents, in such cases, are of secondary im- 
 portance. They are only required as a means of dis- 
 playing the rest. When a foreign manager makes 
 haste to buy one of these plays, and has it translated, 
 he prepares for himself an astonishment. It is long, 
 tedious, and uninteresting; the tirades are pretentious 
 bombast, and the plot puerile. What could the French 
 see in such a thing? 
 
 The plays of Racine and Comeille are the master- 
 pieces of France, and the public listens to them to-day 
 in raptures. Other countries find little or nothing in 
 them, when they are translated. And among the 
 
DM$e and tbe Jrmh. 9 
 
 greatest successes of modern times, "Par le Glaive," 
 "Severo Torelli," "La Fille de Roland," "Pour la 
 Couronne," and several others, if played outside of 
 France, are almost sure to be listened to with impa- 
 tience. "Le Chemineau," whose triumphant career at 
 the Odeon was only interrupted by the summer vaca- 
 tion, is a new vehicle for beautiful language. A leading 
 English actor was tempted to buy it, and announced 
 its production. But when he had the translation before 
 him, and considered the play itself, he turned his atten- 
 tion to other things. 
 
 It follows that in France the greatest attention is 
 paid also to the quality of an actor's voice, to its in- 
 tonations and modulations, and its general resources 
 as an instrument of expression. At the National Con- 
 servatory, -where most of the actors are formed, its 
 cultivation is a fundamental consideration, just as it 
 was among the ancient Greeks. When a debut is 
 made, a discussion of the debutant's voice is very apt 
 to be accorded a prominent place in the critics' ac- 
 count of the performance. They have a whole vo- 
 cabulary of epithets which permit them to designate 
 with nicety the most delicate characteristics that per- 
 tain to a speaking voice and to the art of using it. 
 
 Duse, it seems, was well informed as to this state of 
 affairs. She knew, too, that the French language 
 spoken on the stage with an accent is quite intolerable 
 to French ears. A Marguerite Gautier, a Denise, a 
 Cesarine, who told her love in multilated French, would 
 make the audience writhe in their seats if they did not 
 relieve themselves with hilarity. She realized that she 
 
10 Du$e and the frettcb. 
 
 could never acquire the language with such perfection 
 as to enable her to compete with Parisian rivals. 
 Moreover, she was not an unknown beginner; she 
 could not make the attempt quietly and retire un- 
 perceived in case of rebuff. Her reputation would be 
 used as a standard against her. 
 
 They that stand high have many winds to shake them, 
 And when they fall they dash themselves to pieces. 
 
 She informed her friends simply that the difficulty of 
 mastering their language was too great for her. She 
 abandoned the idea of ever going to Paris, and re- 
 solved to content herself with what success might fall 
 to her lot elsewhere. 
 
 It was some time before any one even suggested the 
 idea of going to Paris just as she was. Foreign plays, 
 played by foreigners, as a rule arouse but a mediocre 
 interest in France. The delicate appreciation to which 
 the French are accustomed is baffled by the unfamiliar 
 medium, and in the scale of comparisons both play 
 and actor suffer accordingly. Those who were inter- 
 ested in Duse realized this disadvantage and did not 
 urge her to court it. 
 
 This was before Duse began her peregrinations 
 abroad. The nature of her reception in Vienna, in 
 London and in America put a new aspect upon the 
 matter. It brought with it the conviction that her art 
 coulH be appreciated in spite of the language. And 
 while the French connoisseurs maintained their scep- 
 tical attitude and awaited the issue, Duse's friends be- 
 gan urging her to reconsider her decision and face the 
 Parisians with her mother tongue. 
 
Du$e and tu frencD. 
 
 II 
 
 Indeed, why not? If her talent was genuine why- 
 should she hesitate to go and be judged? The time 
 had come for her to think more hopefully of her 
 chances. In answer to the question that was put to her, 
 whenever she listened to her heart, she heard there only 
 the echo, "Why not?" 
 
 DusE AND Bernhardt. 
 
 All at once, toward the end of last spring, the an- 
 nouncement was made in Paris that Duse was coming. 
 At the same time the situation was unexpectedly com- 
 plicated by the appearance of a new figure on the scene 
 in the person of Sarah Bernhardt. 
 
 It was she who had prevailed upon the Italian actress 
 to take the decisive step when all others had failed. 
 At least so the announcement stated, and inasmuch as 
 it was made by Bernhardt's own agents in Paris there 
 was no cause to question it. Not only that, but, in 
 proof of good will, Bernhardt had offered to Duse the 
 hospitality of her own Paris theatre, which had been 
 gratefully accepted. 
 
 As might be expected, the appearance of this news ^ 
 
 was the signal for a tribute of admiration to Bern- .>^ 
 hardt from the entire French press. To come forward Kj' 
 as Duse's champion, — to aid and protect an actress / *A> 
 who had even been suggested as her rival, — who but the ^\ '^X^ 
 "divine Sarah" could be capable of such magnanimity? Wrv, ^ 
 
 The effect of this was so notable that it succeeded 
 in diverting all eyes from Duse at the moment of her 
 long-awaited ,coming, to lift them once more to the 
 national idol with a renewed outburst of enthusiasm. 
 
'^ DN$e and tbe Trench. 
 
 It is time, therefore, to call attention to the most 
 curious, the most interesting, and possibly the most 
 dramatic phase of the whole situation that was pend- 
 ing. It has to do with Sarah Bernhardt Usually 
 when affairs concern her she has to be reckoned with, 
 and this affair came close to her in more ways than 
 one. 
 
 If her Parisian world was still in relative ignorance 
 with regard to the Italian woman, she herself was bet- 
 ter informed. She had met Duse in foreign cities, she 
 had taken the opportunity of seeing her act, and could 
 not avoid concluding that her talent was redoubtable. 
 In the natural course of events it was a foregone con- 
 clusion that, sooner or later, Duse would brave the 
 Paris public, and Bemhardt's instinct probably warned 
 her that the moment was near at hand. For the first 
 time in her career she found herself in presence of 
 an actress who had been gradually elevated to the 
 position of a rival. She herself had reached the zenith 
 of her fame; in Paris she reigned supreme. If com- 
 parisons were inevitable, the other was younger, and 
 nothing could be. gained by time. 
 
 A very little imagination will suggest what feelings 
 may have moved her as she regarded the eventuality. 
 Was she to sit idly by, and see Duse occupy the field, 
 the unique centre of attention? Or could she contrive 
 to join the proceedings and influence the result? The 
 manner in which she faced this alternative was worthy 
 of a Bernhardt. 
 
 We have seen with what a brilliant stroke she be- 
 ^an, by bringing her rival forward as a friend and pro- 
 
Dttsc ana tbe f rencft. 13 
 
 tegee. It disarmed suspicion, and lifted her higher 
 than ever in the good graces of an admiring people. 
 But this was only a beginning. At every important 
 stage of Duse's visit careful observers could see the 
 "divine Sarah" at work, playing her cards with rare 
 skill and perspicacity, winning one trick after another 
 in the subtle game she had undertaken. 
 
 Toward the end of May, then, Duse arrived with 
 her troupe, to prepare for the opening, which was set 
 down for June ist. She went quietly to a hotel, as is 
 her wont, and begged to be excused from receiving 
 the numerous journalists who called to interview her. 
 There was no difficulty, however, in obtaining informa- 
 tion, and the newspapers honored her immediately with 
 the widest publicity. The leading incidents of her 
 career were faithfully related, including her correspond- 
 ence with Dumas ; and the fact was not overlooked that 
 some people had claimed for her the distinction of 
 rivaling Bernhardt. 
 
 Extreme curiosity was naturally aroused at the prom- 
 ise of so much; but for those who could read aright 
 there was a persistent note of scepticism between the 
 lines. A great reputation was, nevertheless, at stake, 
 and, however it fared, interesting reading was in store 
 for Paris on the morrow of the first performance. 
 
 What play would Duse choose for her debut? The 
 question was a very important one. The great shock 
 would, of course, come on the opening night, and the 
 impression produced then was apt to be decisive. What 
 was her best role? Which was surest to establish her 
 position with the French? 
 
14 Dttse and the Trencft. 
 
 After hesitation and discussion, in which her man- 
 ager and her friends took part, it was decided for 
 Magda. This choice seemed to be a wise and pru- 
 dent one for two reasons. Not only did the part suit 
 her talent admirably, but in it she had less to fear 
 from comparison with Bernhardt. Bernhardt's inter- 
 pretation of Magda had met with reserves, even in 
 Paris, where she first essayed it, though fault was 
 found principally with the play itself. Whenever she 
 had oflfered it in other cities, she had usually met with 
 a dubious reception. With Duse, on the contrary, the 
 play had always been well received, while it afforded 
 her the occasion for one of her greatest triumphs. 
 
 Duse selected "Magda," then, for her opening in 
 Paris, and the question seemed to be decided. 
 
 But she was counting without her host — or, rather, 
 her hostess. Bernhardt, naturally enough, had differ- 
 ent ideas on the subject. No sooner had the news 
 been announced to her, than she went immediately 
 to her protegee. She talked matters over with her in a 
 sisterly sort of a way. And next morning the papers 
 announced that the Italian actress had changed her 
 mind. She would open with "La Dame aux Came- 
 lias." 
 
 This choice was also an excellent one from another 
 point of view. It was a role consecrated by traditions, 
 in which Bernhardt regarded herself as incomparable. 
 How had Duse been induced to make such an error of 
 judgment? 
 
 Nothing could be simpler. "Magda" was a German 
 play; Duse's language Italian. A German play pre- 
 
Du$c and tbe f rencb. is 
 
 sented in Italian! Was that the way to win sympathy 
 from the French? How much better to begin with 
 something of their own, something they knew by heart, 
 where the language would be no obstacle, and they could 
 follow all the finer touches of her interpretation — "La 
 Dame aux Camelias," for instance ! Such was Bern- 
 hardt's advice, and Duse, touched by so much friendli- 
 ness, accepted it with renewed gratitude. 
 
 One or two of her friends expressed vague misgiv- 
 ings — but, of course, if Bernhardt said so; and, after 
 all, she could play "Magda" later. 
 
 So it was settled. 
 
 The Opening Performance. 
 
 That first night of Duse's in France — who that was 
 there will -ever forget it? It was curious, anxious, in- 
 tense, impressive, dramatic, theatrical, and pathetic — 
 turn by turn, and sometimes all at once. It was also 
 typical and representative, in the closest sense of the 
 words, — a moment such as is seen at but rare intervals 
 in Paris, and never elsewhere. 
 
 We have already noted higher up the predominant 
 influence exerted by art on the life of the French. It 
 is equally true that of all artistic considerations nothing 
 appeals to them like the theatre. It satisfies the needs 
 of their temperament with a completeness that is all 
 its own. For centuries they have excelled in it — 
 authors, actors, critics, and managers. Their conscious 
 superiority stimulates them to effort and forms part of 
 their national pride. They love it, study it, discuss it 
 with never-failing interest, with an earnestness and in- 
 
i« Dttse dnd tbc f rcitcb. 
 
 tensity of feeling that would seem quite out of place in 
 any land but theirs. 
 
 At the prospect of an occasion such as this one prom- 
 ised to be, it is not strange if a noteworthy audience 
 assembled. Behind the lowered curtain, for the first 
 time in a generation, was an actress who had been called 
 a rival of the great Bernhardt. 
 
 Before the curtain goes up it is worth while to turn 
 a moment in the box where I am sitting and take a 
 look at the house. 
 
 It is literally crowded to the walls. From the first 
 row in the orchestra to the last row, up there in the 
 balcony, not a vacancy — one unbroken sea of animated 
 faces. According to a custom, which makes all tickets 
 complimentary for a first night, the desirable places 
 have been tendered to notabilities, while friends of the 
 theatre and their friends occupy the rest. All the faces 
 near enough to be distinguished, therefore, have a 
 claim to attention. At a glance, it is only possible to 
 single out a few of them. 
 
 First and foremost, conspicuously placed in the 
 avant-scene opposite, is Sarah Bernhardt herself. She 
 is draped in a costume of richly embroidered silk, her 
 \^ ' 'i^"-"^^ disheveled head enveloped by a wreath of natural roses. 
 
 She has been bowing, smiling, exchanging words with 
 the visitors who have kept pushing their way to her box 
 in an uninterrupted stream ever since she arrived. Now, 
 as all take their places, she assumes an attitude of ab- 
 sorption and pauses thus, the conscious centre of all 
 eyes. Her son, Maurice, and his wife are with her, but 
 they are little noticed in the shadow of her radiance. 
 
Dn$e m thz frencb. ^7 
 
 In the tier above, a little to the right, sits Rejane, 
 and in the next box but one Bartet, the modest and 
 beloved favorite of the Comedie Frangaise. Their 
 interest in the outcome is only less than Bernhardt's, 
 for they occupy together the next rank to hers on the 
 ladder of theatrical fame. In the box with Rejane is 
 her husband, Porel, manager of the Gymnase and of 
 the Vaudeville, and also their daughter, a little miss in 
 gorgeous attire, who looks about her with a mature air 
 of importance. 
 
 In other boxes are remarked the Prince and Princesse 
 Murat, Prince and Princesse de Poix, Due and Duchesse 
 de Gramont, Prince and Princesse de Bulgarie, several 
 Italian princes and a liberal representation of the 
 highest French nobility. 
 
 Crowded in the orchestra is that peculiar gathering 
 of men, usually described as the "Tout- Paris" of first 
 nights. It is composed principally of literary men, 
 directors of journals, artists and veteran actors, with a 
 sprinkling from the rich leisure class, whose devotion 
 to the theatre has made them connoisseurs. Promi- 
 nent among them to-night is Henri Rochefort, the 
 great political thunderer, returned from his long exile, 
 and commanding admiration with his massive front, 
 his eagle eyes and his waving tuft of hair; Ludovic 
 Halevy, the distinguished author and dramatist, of 
 *T^rou-Frou" fame; and Got, the retired dean of the 
 Comedie Frangaise, who ventures out nights but rarely 
 now on account of his advanced age. 
 
 The dramatic critics are there, exceptional men for 
 the most part, of recognized ability — Jules Lemaitre, 
 
 3 
 
i8 Du$e and the Trcncb. 
 
 Paul Ferret, Henri Bauer, Fouquier, Larroumet, Ca- 
 tulle Mendez and many others. 
 
 Last but not least — in fact more important than all 
 for the issue on hand to-night — a, ruddy old man seated 
 quietly just below us, who looks like Santa Claus. 
 He is Francisque Sarcey, the bulwark of dramatic 
 criticism, whose name is spoken in the art-world of 
 France as one spoke of Bismarck and Gladstone in the 
 other world of politics before they were out of power. 
 For thirty years he has held his position, the undisputed 
 master of critics, and in great moments all turn toward 
 him instinctively as the man who knows. 
 
 ATI is ready. Three measured knocks sound out from 
 the stage. Bernhardt changes her pose — she puts one 
 arm forward on the edge of the box, and after giving 
 a nervous glance to see if she is still being observed, 
 she leans her chin on her open palm and fixes the 
 stage with her eyes. The curtain trembles, there is a 
 sudden hush, and amid silent intensity the memorable 
 performance has begun. 
 
 The preliminary scene seems slow and a trifle stagey. 
 But it is not long, and the moment approaches for the 
 entrance of Marguerite. It is marked in the audience 
 by a visible movement of anticipation and suppressed 
 breathing. 
 
 At the first sight of Duse irregular applause breaks 
 out, which is taken up by the entire audience. As she 
 stands and waits for it to pass one has the opportunity 
 of noticing a significant item in her appearance. For 
 once she is carefully and beautifully attired in a white 
 gown of most artistic design, while in the arrangement 
 
Dttse <ind the f rcncb. ^9 
 
 of her hair there is no trace of the customary disorder 
 and indifference. She appears, moreover, unusually 
 pale. 
 
 These details do not escape her friends; they are 
 commented upon immediately in hurried whispers as 
 the applause dies away. They are only trifles, but they 
 tell so plainly her state of mind, her extreme desire 
 for approbation in the presence of this audience. 
 
 Then, as the play goes on, her nervousness betrays 
 her at every step. It holds her in an agony, which 
 she tries in vain to dominate. Her voice sounds hol- 
 low, her fingers twitch, her whole form is trembling 
 from head to foot. Her condition is palpable t^ 
 all, and it awakens indulgence, as she forces herself 
 through the delicate touches of her role. Little by 
 little, however, she obtains possession of herself, and 
 she is playing almost as usual before the act comes to 
 an end. 
 
 The intermission between the first and second acts 
 not being a long one, most of the audience remained 
 seated. Bernhardt's box, nevertheless, was besieged 
 by another throng of visitors, and a few brief minutes 
 of comedy were offered for the spectators' diversion. 
 Bernhardt's golden voice could not, of course, be heard 
 in the distance, but her pantomime was sufficiently 
 expressive. Amid bows, smiles, and salutations, it was 
 evident that she was going into ecstacies over her 
 protegee's talent, giving proof upon proof of her un- 
 rivaled magnanimity. 
 
 The second act was better received than the first, 
 and at several points there were spontaneous murmurs 
 
20 
 
 Duse and tbc Trench. 
 
 of approval for Duse. The fall of the curtain was re- 
 sponded to by general applause, which was warm and 
 encouraging, though well within bounds. 
 
 Then came a long intermission, and the scene of 
 interest shifted to the foyer, where the audience circu- 
 lated in groups and exchanged impressions. 
 
 It was too soon, of course, for unguarded judgments; 
 the great scenes of the play were yet to come. But on 
 one vital point there seemed to be a startling unanimity 
 of opmion : Duse's impersonation of Marguerite Gautier 
 was essentially wide of the mark. 
 
 Marguerite Gautier, in the first two acts of the play, 
 was a courtesan, a luxurious, whimsical creature whose 
 heart had never been revealed to her; who allured 
 and fascinated men by profession, and laughed at the 
 passions she preyed upon. She was a type of woman 
 thoroughly familiar in France, about whose character- 
 istics there could be no doubt. This consideration is 
 fundamental in the play. It alone justifies the father, 
 Duval, in demanding the separation, even when a 
 miracle of love has revolutionized Marguerite, and 
 made her worthy of pity. Without it, also, there 
 would be no sufficient motive for Marguerite's sublime 
 sacrifice. 
 
 The character presented by Duse, as the French saw 
 it, suggested none of this, but only a sad and sympa- 
 thetic woman, for whom caprice, deceit, and luxury had 
 little charm, and whose transformation at the touch of 
 love was no transformation at all. 
 
 The role was apparently not suited to her tempera- 
 ment, and some one should have advised her to make 
 
Duse and the Trench. ^i 
 
 another selection. So said the connoisseurs, while 
 withholding further judgment until after the great third 
 act. And they returned to their places to admire Bern- 
 hardt, who was still in ecstacies over the talent of her 
 protegee. 
 
 The third act came and went, and the most that 
 can be said of it is that it was listened to patiently. 
 There was no enthusiasm, no murmur of admiration, 
 and very little applause, which was furnished chiefly 
 by the Italian contingent. The great scene with the 
 father Duval passed tediously, without a thrill. Duse^ 
 exhausted by her nervousness, was incapable of sus- 
 taining the emotion for so long a time, and when the 
 climax came, she seemed unequal to it. The scene 
 itself is mutilated in the Italian version, and loses 
 much of its grandeur. Altogether, judged according 
 to the standard set by Sarah Bernhardt, which was 
 present to all minds, this exotic substitute paled into 
 mediocrity. 
 
 The fourth act brought with it a most unexpected de- 
 velopment. The part of Armand had been excellently 
 played, thus far, by Flavio Ando, the leading man of 
 the company, who was not with Duse when she last 
 visited America. In this act, which ends with the vio- 
 lent scene of imprecation, where Armand throws money 
 at Marguerite, Ando developed such force and passion 
 that he quite eclipsed Duse, and made the real sensation 
 of the evening. Time and time again the curtain was 
 lifted in his honor amid shouts of "Brava" and deafen- 
 ing applause, while the position of Duse, standing at his 
 side, was pathetic. 
 
22 
 
 Du$e ana tbe Trcncb. 
 
 c- 
 
 The death-bed scene of the last act was beautifully 
 acted. The Italian woman's exhaustion and despair 
 only added to the effect. But it was too late. A 
 death-bed scene is all very well, but it could not be 
 expected to redeem the whole impression. 
 
 As the audience filed out, after giving one final look 
 at Bernhardt, there could be no doubt as to the result 
 of the issue. If some one had triumphed, it was not 
 Duse. 
 
 Criticisms. 
 
 Next morning the criticisms, almost without excep- 
 tion, were characterized by a tone of calm impartiality. 
 Duse's appearance and resources — voice, facial ex- 
 pression, and gestures, her manner and her effects — 
 were minutely and skilfully analyzed. She had ability 
 certainly, and was entitled to discussion ; but that 
 seemed all. As for comparing her to Bernhardt, or 
 even with Bartet or Rejane, where was the need? To 
 refrain was a courtesy. The inference, however, was 
 none the less plainly suggested for being between the 
 lines. 
 
 To use the words of Gustave Larroumet in a brill- 
 iant article published later: the attitude of the press 
 after the first night was characterized, "above all, by 
 the opinion, expressed or implied, that the pretension 
 of la Duse not only to surpass, but to equal our great 
 actress, was outre cuidantc." 
 
 Duse differs from some members of her profession 
 — she read all the criticisms and she did not attempt 
 to deny it. It is probable that Bernhardt read them, 
 
Du$e and tbe f rencb. ^3 
 
 too. What their feelings were, and what passed be- 
 tween them when they next met, have not been recorded. 
 It is not difficult, however, to imagine with what genu- 
 ine sympathy Bernhardt consoled her and encouraged 
 her to fortitude. 
 
 Sarcey's criticism, carrying more weight than all the 
 others, did not appear, according to custom, until the 
 following Sunday. It contained reserves, like the 
 others, and could hardly be called enthusiastic, but it 
 was more penetrating and more appreciative. He dis- 
 tinguished better between the fault of impersonation, 
 the exotic misconception, and the talent that interpreted 
 it. 
 
 His impressions are always interesting, and in this 
 case peculiarly so, from their bearing on what was to 
 follow. They form, so to speak, the starting point in 
 an ascending scale of values that led to the final dem- 
 onstration. Much that he had to say is worth trans- 
 lating. 
 
 After a few preliminaries, then, he begins by calling 
 attention to the unobtrusive way in which Duse makes 
 her entrance. She evidently expects the first impres- 
 sion she produced to be one of mild surprise. 
 
 c % 
 
 "That was the case with me. She did not seem ^"i^ ! (j^, 
 very pretty; there is nothing about her that attracts '^-o V 
 
 special attention. But by a strange phenomenon her 
 visage becomes animated and transformed. Her facial 
 movements are very expressive, more expressive than 
 varied; for the actress plays almost always with the 
 eyes lowered and repeats frequently certain gestures 
 
'4 Du$c and tbc f rcncb. 
 
 — passing her hand over her forehead, for instance. 
 Little by little there comes from her face and from her 
 whole person something that seizes you, and captivates 
 you, slowly and irresistibly. . . . 
 
 "Ah ! she is certainly not the dame aux camelias that 
 the author wished to depict. I have seen many Mar- 
 guerite Gautiers in my life. All of them could be put 
 in two classes, which two actresses have typified. The 
 first is exactly the kind of woman that Alexandre Du- 
 mas himself had in mind — the heedless, impertinent, 
 spendthrift courtesan, whom love strikes one day, but 
 who remains, nevertheless, to the last breath a courte- 
 san. This is the type that Mme. Doche impersonated, 
 and she impressed it so profoundly in our minds that 
 even now, after forty years, I still see her. As for the 
 <,i^.~ other, it is Mme. Sarah Bernhardt who represents it. 
 
 Her Marguerite Gautier is also a courtesan. But she 
 is an Imperia of superior nature, agitated and feverish, 
 no doubt, but capable of kindness and tenderness, and 
 icnveloped by a perfume of poetry. When true love lays 
 hold of her she becomes transformed, idealized. Of 
 the two manners it is evidently Sarah's which comes 
 closest to great art. 
 
 "La Duse (whether it is because she so conceived the 
 character, or because she is incapable of rendering it 
 otherwise) suggests a good little soul, — if I knew the 
 Italian word that corresponds to grisette I would use 
 it, — very sweet, not over tumultuous, who certainly 
 must regret to be so cruel with Varville, and who can 
 only be conceived as ruining her lovers by making 
 them buy her macaroni. She is a tender creature, 
 
Du$e and tbe f rencb. ^5 
 
 and it is only necessary for her to talk a few minutes 
 with Armand in order to have her heart touched — 
 her utterance becomes slower, and one feels in behold- 
 ing her that such a woman was made, not to dissipate 
 with reckless extravagance the millions of her passing 
 admirers, but to live at the feet of a man she could 
 adore. In the drama, as Dumas conceived it, matters 
 are quite otherwise. Read over again the first act: 
 Marguerite is not so quickly convinced of this great 
 love that Armand professes for her. She banters him, 
 uncertain and thoughtful; she makes fun of him, sends 
 him away and calls him back; she is astonished and 
 unquiet; she, who has seen so much, she never before 
 experienced what she is now going through. Is it 
 possible that she loves him? Perhaps . . . . ! All 
 that is curious in this analysis of love as it begins to 
 take root in the heart of a courtesan has perished in 
 this new interpretation. In the case of la Duse, there 
 is nothing but the radiant sunrise of love that comes in 
 a pure heart. 
 
 "That is not the same thing; it is something alto- 
 gether different. 
 
 "And yet, it is nevertheless delicious. For she ex- 
 cels in expressing tenderness, and her manner of offer- 
 ing a flower to Armand, though quite absurd if one 
 follows the text, is in itself exquisitely graceful and 
 tender. 
 
 "... What happened between the second and 
 third acts? Did la Duse, who is said to be very 
 nervous, experience a vexation? One thing is certain; 
 in the third act she allowed the public to escape her, 
 
 4 
 
26 Dii$e and tbe 'Trench. 
 
 and only retained a few chronic admirers whose ap- 
 plause hardly succeeded in covering the retreat. 
 
 "The general defect of la Duse in this role — that 
 of appearing too simple and good-natured — was 
 specially emphasized here. She listened to the sermon 
 of the father Duval as a little school-girl listens to the 
 reprimand of her father when he scolds her for tearing 
 her gown. 
 
 "What is the use of insisting? 
 
 "The fourth act belongs to Armand Duval; this is 
 the act in which he throws bank notes in Marguerite's 
 face. 
 
 " 'You are all witness that I no longer owe anything 
 to that woman !' 
 
 "Duse has changed for her personal use this terri- 
 ble climax, and I am afraid she has altered its sense. 
 You remember the altercation between Armand and 
 Marguerite, who has given her word to his father that 
 she will never go back to him. Armand asks, begs, 
 prays, weeps, menaces. She is in despair, but does not 
 weaken. She declares to him that she can never again 
 be his; she has promised it. 
 
 "'To whom?' demands Armand, wild with rage. 'To 
 Monsieur de Varvillef 
 
 " 'Yes.' 
 
 " 'To Monsieur de Varville, whom you love ?' 
 
 " 'Very well ! Yes, I love Monsieur de Varville!' 
 
 "This word achieves the sacrifice. Consumm^tum 
 est. She has nothing more to say; she must not say 
 anything more. Let her faint, if she likes, or let her 
 be ferociously silent — she must be still. Dumas un- 
 
Du$e atid tbe Trencb. ^ 
 
 derstood this so well that throughout the imprecations 
 of Armand which follow, there is not a single word in 
 the text, not even an .exclamation, put down to Mar- 
 guerite. 
 
 "But that did not suit La Duse. Since it is she that 
 people come to see and hear in her tours, it is neces- 
 sary for her to dominate the scene, and this is what she 
 has imagined. 
 
 "While Armand hurls at her his famous tirade: 
 *Do you know what she did — this Marguerite 
 Gautier? She sold all she had to live with me,' etc. 
 La Duse, in the midst of these insults, as if she wished 
 to stop him, keeps uttering a cry, which she repeats 
 each time more loudly: 'Armando I Armando I Ar- 
 mando I' — in a crescendo which is surely pathetic, 
 but of the same sort of pathos that Mile. Fargueil at- 
 tained^ easily when she sang three times, 'Assassin! 
 Assassin ! Assassin !' — raising the note each time six 
 tones. 
 
 "M. Primoli has related an anecdote on this sub- 
 ject. Verdi, who had just been listening to this scene 
 one night, said, as he thought of his 'Traviata' : 
 
 " 'This little Duse ! If I had heard her before com- 
 posing my opera, what a splendid finale I could per- 
 haps have made with this crescendo di Armandi which 
 she has invented! . . .' 
 
 "Yes, indeed; just so! La Duse has changed into 
 an opera finale a dramatic scene which was logical and 
 admirable. 
 
 "In the last act she won our sympathy again. Her 
 death is very touching. She has oppressions which 
 
^ Duse and tbc f rencb. 
 
 affect us powerfully. The only reserve I would make 
 is with regard to a profusion of 'Armando! Armando T 
 which escape incessantly from her lips, like a plaintive 
 'Mama!' that might come from the mouth of an ail- 
 ing child. Perhaps there are too many of them for our 
 French taste. Dumas does not indicate a single one in 
 the text. 
 
 ". . . Such is the account of this performance. I 
 have made it as exact as I could. I think I have 
 come as near as possible to the real truth. But I feel 
 that I am not in the proper key. It is the orchestra 
 that began too high, or did I take it too low? Chi lo 
 saf since we are in Italy. It is nevertheless true that 
 La Duse is an artiste by race, and, if one insists, a 
 great artiste." 
 
 "Magda.^' 
 
 For the second week Duse was announced to play 
 "Magda" twice, and also "Cavalleria Rusticana" and 
 "La Femme de Claude." 
 
 She gave one performance of "Magda," and then she 
 was taken ill. Whether the continued excitement, the 
 extreme nervous tension and disappointment were re- 
 sponsible for this result is a matter of conjecture. At 
 all events she was taken ill, and further announcements 
 had to be canceled. 
 
 The performance of "Magda," as a Parisian event, 
 did not, of course, arouse the same interest as the open- 
 ing night. Duse was now regarded as more or less of 
 a known quantity, and it was simply a question of en- 
 joying her talent in another role. The audience, how- 
 
Du$e and tbe f rcncb. ^ 
 
 ever, was a notable one. It was more simply apprecia- 
 tive, and it applauded frequently and heartily. 
 
 Attention has already been called to the fact that the 
 French did not hold this play in very high esteem. 
 They judged it a melodrama, and a rather mediocre one 
 at that. The situations, the characters, and the point 
 of view in general presented by the play, appeared to 
 them unreasonable to the point of puerility. Duse 
 could not change this attitude, which depended on com- 
 plex considerations. But heir impersonation of the 
 heroine had the advantage of being judged on its own 
 merits. It differed widely from Bernhardt's without 
 shocking any established traditions. 
 
 The tone of the press next morning was more favor- 
 able. There were no insinuations between the lines. 
 The talent shown by Duse in the rendering of this 
 difficult role was freely recognized, and the performance, 
 as a whole, was declared to be infinitely superior to her 
 previous attempt in "La Dame aux Camelias." 
 
 Still there was nothing in this to thrill Duse's heart. 
 The judgment passed on her first effort was present to 
 all minds to establish her limitations. There was no 
 indication that the critics meant to modify it essen- 
 tially. She had appeared to better advantage as 
 Magda; the role was better suited to her tempera- 
 ment. But that did not mean necessarily that her 
 talent was any greater than it was at first set down. 
 When opinions have been formed and carefully ex- 
 pressed, they are supposed to stand until people retract 
 them. 
 
 Sarcey's weekly criticism was more significant. It 
 
30 Du$e and tbe Trencb. 
 
 began by admitting that "Magda" was a fairer test 
 than the other play had been, for the reasons already 
 given, and that Duse was much better in it. And the 
 article ended by suggesting that perhaps the last word 
 had not yet been said with regard to the talent of this 
 Italian woman. Not only that, but the great French 
 critic permitted himself to enter upon a detailed com- 
 parison between Duse and Bernhardt in the role with 
 conclusions that were not altogether disparaging to 
 Duse. 
 
 This portion of the criticism is somewhat long, but 
 it is too important and too interesting not to be pre- 
 sented here. 
 
 Sarcey, then, after some uncomplimentary remarks 
 with regard to the play itself, pauses to observe in a 
 general way the inevitable mutilation that dramatic 
 work undergoes in the process of foreign adaptation. It 
 saddens him to think that the French masterpieces 
 must be similarly outraged when they are taken to 
 other lands. 
 
 "... At last, here is la Duse! Permit me to 
 recall in two words the situation. 
 
 "Magda is the eldest daughter of old Schwartz. He 
 had attempted to marry her to the pastor Hefferding; 
 she had refused; he had cast her off, for he is uncom- 
 promising on the question of parental authority. She 
 began by seeking an existence as best she could — as 
 a lady's companion somewhere. Then, discovering 
 that she had a voice, she went on the stage. She has 
 become celebrated; she has made a great reputation 
 
Du$e and tbe frencft. 31 
 
 and a great fortune without her family's ever hearing 
 a word of it, shut up as they are in their narrow life. 
 She has at her service the homage and admiration of 
 all Europe, but the fact is ignored in the retired spot 
 where she grew up, 
 
 "She is tempted by caprice to see this spot once 
 more, so she accepts an invitation to give a concert in 
 the little city of her childhood. But will her father al- 
 low her to set foot again in the house whence he has 
 banished her? Will he open his arms to her? All the 
 family beg him to pardon her; he yields; Magda can 
 come. She enters, 
 
 "It is here that comes out in sharp contrast the dif- 
 ference between the two talents, the two manners, of 
 Sarah and la Duse. And if I call attention to it, 
 believe me it is not for the vain pleasure of drawing a 
 comparison between these two artistes, nor of estab- 
 lishing their relative rank. It is to show you how the 
 same role can be conceived in two ways, widely op- 
 posed, each of which is explairfed and justified by ex- 
 cellent reasons, 
 
 "Do you call to mind the entrance of Sarah? She 
 was the diva, triumphant and adulated, the operatic 
 star in her glory. She descended upon the house in a 
 startling costume, offering kisses to right and left, 
 encumbering the modest and austere rooms with 
 servants and trunks; she talked incessantly, she was 
 noisy, troubling herself for no one, making fun of her 
 aunt, and horrifying with her repartee the provincial 
 gossips who had come with the intention of examining 
 her, as if she were a curiosity in a museum ; offering 
 
-"^'D 
 
 32 Du$e and tbe Treticb. 
 
 60,000 marks to her sister, so that she might marry the 
 one she loved, and doing it all in a manner which 
 showed plainly that she was accustomed to have all her 
 whims applauded and satisfied. 
 
 "With la Duse it is different She presents herself 
 [/^rO mild, repentant, almost timid. One might think that 
 
 ^-^c-*-^^ ^ ^^ gj^g ^^g ashamed of the luxury surrounding her in 
 
 spite of herself, and which she has suppressed as far as 
 possible. She is trying to be simple, in order to live 
 with simple people. She has completely forgotten that 
 she is the first prima donna of her time, and that she 
 has had princes at her feet making love to her. 
 
 "These two interpretations can both be defended. 
 Each has its advantages and its disadvantages; Sarah 
 began with this idea, which is perfectly true — that 
 when a woman has lived a great deal in theatrical 
 surroundings, when she has been a princess of the 
 stage, she must contract inevitably certain habits, 
 certain tastes, nay, even certain mannerisms, which it 
 is quite impossible to throw off in a day. The 
 professional star, in spite of everything, is always 
 visible beneath the civilized lady or the kind-hearted 
 girl. 
 
 "Magda has been applauded throughout two hemi- 
 spheres; she has been feted and flattered with all sorts 
 of homage — a very queen. It is not possible for her, 
 when she goes back home, to leave behind this new 
 personality which stage life and success have given 
 her. The advantage of this interpretation is that it is 
 true drama — that is to say, it makes plainly visible to 
 us, in a living way, the opposition, intended by the 
 
Dttse and tbe f rcncb. 33 
 
 author, between family life in a pious home and the 
 tumultuous existence of an independent artiste. 
 
 "But here is the disadvantage : 
 
 "The author demands that Magda, instead of mak- 
 ing a passing visit among those she once loved, shall 
 give evidence, not exactly of a desire, but of a sort of 
 whimsical readiness to take up again, at her father's 
 side, the old-time life. The mother, the aunt, the 
 sister, hope to bring this about, and they make every 
 effort to keep Magda. I am astonished at their in- 
 sistence, when it is Sarah who plays the part. How 
 can they help seeing at the first glance that this rest- 
 less, brilliant, noisy bird is not suited to such a cage? 
 They beg the father to give his consent, and this old 
 puritan declares that he will not allow Magda to 
 remain under his roof until he has questioned her and 
 learned from her answers whether she has remained 
 pure. Well ! Has he no eyes, then, the old imbecile ? 
 That is going a little too far, even for a German ! A 
 single look at Sarah ought to be enough for him — 
 her eccentric appearance, her cavalier way of squan- 
 dering money, can leave no doubt as to the kind of life 
 she has led. 
 
 "His obtuseness seems less extraordinary when it is 
 a question of la Duse. The Italian actress has retained, 
 in spite of her life of adventures, the moderate tone 
 and tlie smiling appearance of a little bourgeoise. 
 
 "Thus the contrast between the humble and severe 
 home and the luxurious impression coming from 
 Magda is very much less picturesque with her than 
 with Sarah. 
 
 5 
 
34 Du$c ana tbe Trench. 
 
 "But see now where she gets her revenge. 
 
 "The author has imagined that during the time when 
 Magda was a lady's companion she was seduced by an 
 official — Keller, a type of ambition and a slave to pub- 
 lic opinion. When she became a mother he abandoned 
 her in cowardly fashion. Magda brought up her little 
 girl and adored her, though she left her in other peo- 
 ple's keeping. 
 
 "This old blockhead, Schwartz, has discovered the 
 secret — ^by listening at the door, according to the 
 Italian version ; by plying Keller with questions, accord- 
 ing to the original — and thereupon he demands that 
 Keller shall marry Magda and restore her her honor. 
 A crazy idea, certainly, is that of old Schwartz to go 
 back so many years and meddle with past history! 
 What! he has thrown his daughter out of doors and 
 left her at the mercy of every ill wind ; she has become, 
 thanks to his stupid brutality, a great artiste; she should 
 at least be entitled to arrange her own heart troubles 
 in her own way. Indeed, her honor has been com- 
 promised because she, a woman of the stage, has had 
 a child, and this honor will be restored to her if Keller 
 marries against his will, under threat of a duel and 
 scandal, a woman that he no longer loves and who 
 detests him. 
 
 "With Sarah, this whole arrangement seemed to us 
 simply idiotic. La Duse makes it seem almost possi- 
 ble. She has a final explanation with Keller which 
 brings things to a crisis. This scene, when Sarah 
 played it, made very little impression on me — she 
 made the impertinence of the situation too apparent. 
 
Du$e and tbe Trencb. as 
 
 Keller began by demanding that Magda should retire 
 from the stage — that might pass; we accept it. But 
 behold him insisting, in addition, that their child shall 
 be kept away from their home! They will have the 
 little girl brought up in hiding, far away some;where; 
 perhaps they might adopt her later if there is^'dccasion 
 for it. 
 
 "This Keller is even more stupid than he is base. He 
 is presented to us as a slave of opinion, who trembles 
 at the thought of a scandal. iBut if he consents to 
 marry a theatrical character there can be no excuse for 
 him in the eyes of the world, unless he does it to repair 
 a fault. It is absurd for him to marry Magda, and 
 then repudiate her child and his. 
 
 "These objections were present in our minds when 
 Sarah played the part, because she never allowed us 
 to forget for an instant that she was a Magda. With 
 la Duse, we no longer remembered it; and then, as she 
 spoke of her daughter with an extraordinary intensity 
 of emotion that reminds one of Bartet in "Denise" — as 
 she uttered with a powerful outburst of scorn and an- 
 ger, without ever forcing the note, the tirade against 
 her infamous seducer, the audience was completely cap- 
 tured. Every one was delighted to see so much natur- 
 alness combined with such great force of feeling. 
 
 "There is one scene — in my opinion the best and 
 most original scene in the play — which had charmed 
 us when Sarah played it, but which, in la Duse's ren- 
 dering attracted no attention. I refer to the scene 
 between Magda and the pastor Hefferding. This 
 Hefferding is the minister whom Schwartz has previ- 
 
36 Duse and tbe f rencb. 
 
 ously wished Magda to marry. She had refused, re- 
 garding him as narrow-minded and unsympathetic. She 
 knows life now, and while she talks with this honest 
 man, so simple and so grave, she realizes that he is 
 broader and finer than she had supposed him to be. He 
 has treasured in his heart the precious image of the 
 woman he loved; he never married; he has devoted 
 himself with heroic resignation to his humble duties; 
 he has accepted simply the social laws which she has 
 disdainfully transgressed; she feels that he is nobler 
 than she is, and this conviction gradually leads her into 
 a state of reverie. Could it be herself, after all, who 
 in throwing off all restraint had spoiled her life and 
 lost her happiness? The scene, temperate and melan- 
 choly in tone, is exquisite. There is nothing similar to 
 it, as far as I can remember, in any French play. It Is 
 a product of German soil. 
 
 "Sarah played it beautifully. I am willing to believe 
 that la Duse also played it well. But unfortunately it 
 is what we call a 'quiet scene,' and without a perfect 
 understanding of Italian it is impossible to follow the 
 delicate details of interpretation. Ah, how well I can 
 understand now that the Americans, who have but an 
 imperfect knowledge of French, yawn at the narratives, 
 the dreams, the dissertations of our tragedies ! 
 
 "The rest does not count. This confirmed pious man, 
 Schwartz, learns the reason of Keller's refusal to marry 
 his daughter. And what do you suppose is his decision 
 — the decision of a father? He decides for the coward, 
 who shirks the most sacred of all duties — the duty that 
 obliges a father to recognize his own child. He in- 
 
DN$e and tbe f reiicb. 37 
 
 sists on making Magda marry this scoundrel. And 
 she, in order to escape further persecution, is obliged 
 to say to him : 
 
 " 'But, father, how do you know that Keller is the 
 only lover I have had?' 
 
 "That makes him indignant, the old beast ! He seizes 
 a pistol; he raises it, but his hand falls lifeless; paral- 
 ysis has come upon him, and he dies. 
 
 "It seemed to me that la Duse displayed a little 
 artifice in the expressions of grief that this death gives 
 rise to. Her apparent simplicity is the fruit of long 
 study. At times this study is visible, but only at 
 times. 
 
 "I think I am beginning to distinguish the charac- 
 teristic traits of her peculiar talent. Before attempting 
 to arrive at definite conclusions, we were waiting to 
 see her in 'La Femme de Claude' and 'Cavalleria 
 Rusticana.' Unfortunately, she has been taken ill, 
 and these performances are to be purely and simply 
 suppressed." 
 
 Such was Sarcey's second criticism, and in it was 
 healing balm for poor suffering Duse. Not only did 
 it admit her rights, in one play at least, to a compari- 
 son with Bernhardt, but it left, in a way, the whole 
 question of her talent still open for final apprecia- 
 tion. 
 
 She had been ill for several days at the time this 
 article appeared, and, whatever the cause, almost imme- 
 diately we find her recovering. 
 
 The season was not yet over ; the battle might still go 
 
38 Dn$e and tbe f rencb. 
 
 on, and, thanks to "Magda" and Sarcey, there was the 
 bare possibility of a general turn in the tide. 
 
 The Apotheosis of Bernhardt. 
 
 Did this situation arouse apprehensions in Bernhardt? 
 Did she feel the need of intervening again, to throw her 
 weight in the balance? Or was it mere coincidence? 
 At all events, she discovered an opportunity, and lost 
 no time in espousing it. 
 
 At the time of Dumas's death, a committee had 
 been organized for the purpose of receiving subscrip- 
 tions, and erecting a monument to his memory. This 
 committee was still in need of funds. Bernhardt saw 
 the committee; she proposed a gala performance at 
 her theatre, which she offered gratuitously, and as- 
 sured success to the enterprise by volunteering her ser- 
 vices as an actress. 
 
 So it came about that while Duse's health was 
 mending, and her return to the stage appeared immi- 
 nent, Bernhardt furnished the press with a new topic 
 of interest. It was announced that she had chosen to 
 appear in the last two acts of "La Dame aux Came- 
 lias," while Duse had been asked to join with her and 
 interpret the second and third acts of the same play. 
 If her health permitted her to accept, according to the 
 papers, the public was promised a unique occasion for 
 comparing the two talents. 
 
 It was not suggested in these announcements that 
 no scheme could have been better devised to put Duse 
 at a hopeless disadvantage; though the third act of this 
 

 ^•^ 
 
 Du$e and the f rencb. 39 
 
 play was known to be the precise point where she had 
 failed most signally to satisfy her audience, while the "^ 
 death-bed scene, of incomparable effect, was reserved 
 for the triumph of Bernhardt. 
 
 Before the appointed date Duse was well again, and 
 she could not becomingly refuse to accept the invitation, "^'-^ 
 
 or the challenge, thus tendered her. A burnt child, how- V' 
 
 ever, dreads the fire, and Duse had followed Bemhardt's 
 friendly advice once before. This time she could not ^ 
 
 be prevailed upon to lend herself to the project that 
 had been formed for her. She was honored and happy 
 to be able to contribute her services, in memory of the "^ "^ 
 
 great Dumas; but she must ask the committee's per- *^ 
 
 mission to appear in "La Femme de Claude," which was 
 also one of his masterpieces. 
 
 And, in spite of blandishments, flattery, and prayers, 
 Bernhardt could not change her decision. The request 
 of the Italian woman had to be acceded to by the com- 
 mittee, and she was put down for the second act of "La 
 Femme de Claude." 
 
 Bernhardt and Duse on the same stage, playing great 
 roles one after the other, the same night — offering them- 
 selves, side by side, for appreciation and comparison — 
 what more need be said to intimate that the Parisian 
 world again considered itself in the presence of an 
 event? The facade of the theatre had been decorated 
 with electric flowers in honor of it ; while inside was 
 just such another audience as had favored Duse's first 
 night, with a few great names added. 
 
 This time, however, there was no uncertainty as to 
 the outcome. Duse's eclipse was a foregone conclu- 
 
 u . 
 
40 Du$e and m f rencb. 
 
 sion. Do as she might, the occasion was contrived so as 
 to end with the triumph of Bernhardt. 
 
 It is interesting to note, in this connection, that the 
 performance opened with a one-act play written by 
 Bernhardt some years ago, which was admirably pre- 
 sented by well-known actors. The newspapers in- 
 formed us that when it was proposed to revive this 
 play, Bernhardt had sought to avoid the honor, and that 
 the repeated insistence of Sardou was required to over- 
 come her excessive modesty. 
 
 Another curiosity of this gala night was the first ap- 
 pearance of Yvette Guilbert in the rdle of an actress. 
 She played a sort of monologue called "Lettres de 
 Femmes," and acquitted herself very creditably. 
 
 The humor of the audience was, of course, more en- 
 thusiastic than critical, as is always the case with bene- 
 fit performances, and there was unstinted applause for 
 everybody. 
 
 But let us see now how Duse fared in her forced com- 
 parison with Bernhardt. Here is a typical account, pub- 
 lished next morning by the "Gaulois" : 
 
 " . . . But here come the two great numbers — 
 *La Femme de Claude' and 'La Dame aux Camelias.' 
 Sarah Bernhardt, who remains, as ever, the most gra- 
 cious of hostesses, yields first place to Eleanora Duse. 
 
 "It is the second act that she has chosen, the act 
 which aroused such passionate discussion and contro- 
 versies when it was first produced, and which was de- 
 fended by the author in two brochures — M'Homme- 
 Femme' and *Tue-la!' 
 
Du$e and tbe freitcb. 41 
 
 "La Duse, who has made this play famous in 
 Italy, interprets the second act in a manner that is 
 profoundly moving, natural, and simple all at once. 
 She is decidedly an actress of the first class. The 
 curtain falls amid rounds of applause. La Duse is 
 recalled four times in succession, and immediately 
 afterward Victorien Sardou goes to her dressing-room, 
 accompanied by Ludovic, Halevy, Philippe Gille and 
 Galdemar. 
 
 "... 'I do not know how to congratulate you,' 
 says Sardou, 'both as president of the committee and 
 as a dramatist. It is not enough to congratulate you; -i.^ 
 
 I must also thank you for the intense emotion you 
 aroused in us.' 
 
 "And la Duse, overcome, with tears in her eyes, her 
 voice still trembling, can only stammer and hold out her 
 hands to Sardou. 
 
 "But after enthusiasm, now comes ecstasy. 
 
 "Every one knows the everlasting creation that Sarah 
 has made of Marguerite Gautier — what poetry, what 
 distinction, what personality, she has impressed upon 
 this character, which she has succeeded in making al- 
 most legendary. Last night she revealed herself once 
 more the admirable tragedienne who sends a divine 
 thrill through all hearts. She was splendidly supported 
 by Lucien Guitry and the excellent company of the 
 Renaissance in the fourth and fifth acts. 
 
 "She is also recalled four times. The audience keeps 
 on proclaiming her and calling for her. And, while the 
 curtain rises and descends for the last time, I hear one 
 of my neighbors exclaim: 
 
 6 
 
 *^'^, 
 
42 Dust <ind tbe f rcticD. 
 
 " 'She has genius, our genius!' 
 
 "And now it is to the great tragedienne's room that 
 the committee goes. Sardou approached Sarah, as if 
 to speak to her. She rises up, goes to meet him, and 
 they fall into each other's arms in a silent embrace. 
 And the emotion of this silence is truly poignant. At 
 this moment la Duse appears and throws herself into 
 Sarah's arms, whom she embraces with all her force. 
 The emotion is at its height." 
 
 Then, after recitations and songs by Coquelin, Ta- 
 magno and others, comes the so-called apotheosis of 
 Dumas, which is also the apotheosis of Sarah — as the 
 papers inform us — "another and a unique apotheosis in 
 itself." 
 
 The curtain rises to disclose the celebrated bust of 
 Dumas, by Carpeaux, which occupies the centre of the 
 stage. Grouped about, at a respectful distance, are 
 all the artists who have taken part in the performance, 
 while in advance of all, face to face with the bust itself, 
 stands Sarah Bernhardt. She still wears the costume 
 of Marguerite Gautier, and is there as the accepted 
 symbol, the unrivaled personification of Dumas's im- 
 mortal creation. Duse is in the background along 
 with the others. 
 
 A poem has been composed especially for the occa- 
 sion by Edmond Rostand, in which Bernhardt is allowed 
 to address Dumas in a tone of familiar grandeur, as 
 befits one genius in the presence of another. After an 
 expressive pause, therefore, she changes her attitude and 
 begins. 
 
Du$c and tM f rencb. 43 
 
 "She recites these exquisite verses with a charm of 
 tenderness, an intensity of feeling, that arouses new 
 transports of enthusiasm. The whole audience is on 
 its feet, quivering, with arms outstretched toward the 
 prodigious artiste^ who makes an effort to bow, but is 
 overcome by the force of her emotion. The curtain 
 rises and falls an incalculable number of times, disclos- 
 ing the great tragedienne in her gracious attitude of 
 homage to the great dramatist. And then, with a move- 
 ment of touching spontaneity, Sarah goes to la Duse, 
 seizes her hand, and both incline before the bust of the 
 master. . . . The spectacle is one that will never 
 be forgotten." 
 
 This was the natural conclusion of the gala perform- 
 ance from the moment Bernhardt conceived it. There 
 is no need of suggesting what must have been the nature 
 of her feelings as she saw the perfect success with 
 which the project was realized. 
 
 At all events, now that she had proved her mag- 
 nanimous friendship for Duse, by aiding her in all 
 possible ways, her presence was no longer required. 
 She could retire to London with a clear conscience. So 
 she said good-by, and departed with her glory, leav- 
 ing Duse to finish her series of performances as far as 
 health would permit. The Paris season was practi- 
 cally over, and, the rest did not seem to matter much 
 anyhow. 
 
 In fact, most of the theatres had already closed 
 their doors, and only a little more than a week was left 
 before Duse's engagement must come to an end. 
 
44 Du$c and tbe f rencb. 
 
 "Sganarelle." 
 
 It must have called for all of Duse's courage to go 
 on, in the face of such conditions; but her spirit was 
 roused, and she did not falter. The critics were still 
 there to hear her; she would play for them as much 
 as she could. She put on, therefore, in succession, with 
 as little interval as possible, all the remaining plays that 
 her company was prepared for — "La Locandiera," 
 "Sogno di un Mattino di Primavera" — a new play by 
 d'Annunzio, "La Femme de Claude," and "Cavalleria 
 Rusticana." 
 
 The critics followed these performances closely, they 
 discussed the different plays at length, they found fit- 
 ting and graceful words of praise for Duse's. talent in 
 interpreting them, but there was no more talk of com- 
 parisons, nothing especially significant in it all, not even 
 any definite indication that first impressions had been 
 seriously modified. The days passed by, the last per- 
 formance was announced, and Duse's ammunition was 
 exhausted. 
 
 One characteristic of her art, however, is that the 
 sensations it awakens are not easily let go. Little 
 scenes and touches that are hardly perceived at the 
 theatre keep recurring to the imagination in after 
 moments, with curious distinctness. The effect is 
 cumulative. 
 
 As the day of her departure drew near, and the Par- 
 isians paused to think back over her performances and 
 reckon with them as a whole, the aggregation of talent 
 that confronted them seemed to come in the nature of 
 
Dttse ana tbe f rencft. 45 
 
 a surprise. The process had been going on, gradually 
 and imperceptibly, thanks to Duse's perseverance. At 
 the eleventh hour it resulted in a new state of mind that 
 was only waiting for a signal to declare itself. 
 
 But who was to give the signal? If nobody gave it, 
 how was the poor woman to know that the tide had 
 turned, and she had conquered? 
 
 One day an open letter, addressed to Duse, was 
 published in "Le Temps." It expressed regret at the 
 idea that this great actress was about to leave Paris, 
 while so few of her brother and sister artists had had 
 an opportunity of seeing her. The loss to them would 
 be very great. Her methods had opened new hor- 
 izons in the theatrical domain, and all might profit by 
 the example. Could not she be prevailed upon to 
 offer, before she left, an invitation matinee perform- 
 ance especially designed for them? The writer could 
 assure her in advance the sincere gratitude of all those 
 who, like himself, were lovers of art. This letter was 
 signed "Sganarelle." 
 
 Its general tone and the nature of the request were 
 very flattering to Duse. In Paris, ordinarily, condi- 
 tions are such as to make quite unnecessary what are 
 known elsewhere as "professional matinees." Such a 
 performance as the one suggested, if it met with ap- 
 proval, would be a distinction almost without precedent. 
 
 Imagine Duse's feelings, therefore, when the press in 
 general took up this letter, and she was informed that 
 its signer — "Sganarelle" was no other than Francisque 
 Sarcey. 
 
 That was the signal. It seemed to act like magic. 
 
46 DN$e ana tbc Trencb. 
 
 There was no more uncertainty or hesitation ; the new 
 state of mind was ready and waiting; it declared itself 
 immediately. And Duse, who had seemed to be waging 
 a lonely and unequal struggle, in the face of discourage- 
 ment, found herself surrounded all at once by powerful 
 champions. 
 
 Those who had thrown out insinuations and irony, 
 who had smiled at her pretensions, belittled her talent, 
 and aided Bernhardt to eclipse her — all went into hiding. 
 They had nothing more to say, and nobody cared 
 to hear them. On every side were new words of 
 praise, new points of view, new expressions of sym- 
 pathy and admiration for the great and genuine talent 
 of Duse. 
 
 The Turn in the Tide. 
 
 A LEADING article in "Figaro" signed by Gustave Lar- 
 roumet, one of the most esteemed critics and litterateurs 
 of modem France, begins as follows : 
 
 "La Duse is about to leave us, after having given 
 us a brilliant fete of art. Actress without rival in Italy, 
 and classed by two worlds in the first rank of travel- 
 ing stars, she came to Paris to ask for the consecration 
 of her glory. This supreme crown she will take away 
 with her . . . 
 
 "Before we knew her we incarnated — ^not to speak 
 of men — dramatic genius in three women — Sarah Bern- 
 hardt, Bartet, and Rejane. The first of these repre- 
 sented for us poetry ; the second, charm ; and the third, 
 cleverness. We can henceforth add to this trinity a 
 fourth muse — truth. 
 
Du$e and tbc Trencb. 47 
 
 "On the stage there is but one way to have talent 
 or genius. The great artiste is she who reveals an orig- 
 inal nature. But geniuses and talents are very dif- 
 ferent in their manner of expressing themselves. This 
 one [Bartet], for instance, lives on the stage her own 
 moral life, clothing it with the moderation and reserve 
 that rule her own life; it is truth, but modest and 
 veiled truth. Another [Re jane] plays with the irony, 
 the sharpened intelligence, the refined egotism, that 
 give to all the acts of a Parisienne a certain point of 
 complication. A third [Bernhardt], from a constant 
 desire to be unique, supplies all the highest and rarest 
 expressions of art, except one — simplicity. In la Duse 
 we have seen on the stage a woman's nature and 
 an artiste's nature completing each other— the artiste 
 playing with all the sensitiveness of a woman, and the 
 woman allowing herself to be entirely absorbed in the 
 artiste. 
 
 "She is sensitive and absolutely sincere, so intensely 
 so, that not only does she make her art with her own 
 experience of life, but she lives her art as she lives her 
 life — that is to say, she forms each one of her characters 
 with all her soul, and with all her body, without holding 
 back anything." 
 
 And the article concludes with these words : 
 
 "Thus, for the public and for the artists, la Duse 
 brought us a good example. She leaves behind her a 
 seed that will bear fruit. In order to fortify it, she 
 must come back. And come back she will." 
 
Du$e and tbe f rencb. 
 
 Jules Lemaitre, another of the most prominent critics, 
 contributed an article to "La Revue des Deux Mondes," 
 which begins in this way: 
 
 "She came to us, preceded by a European reputation, 
 a rival sister of the great Sarah. We were not de- 
 ceived, for Mme. Eleonora Duse is a dramatic artiste, 
 original to the core, and of the first rank. We were 
 told she was beyond everything an astonishing realist; 
 that she lived her parts rather than played them, and 
 in this way took her audience by storm. And that 
 statement is doubtless exact. But — and I know not 
 why — I expected her acting would be, by preference, 
 coarse and brutal — spontaneously brusque and violent. 
 On the contrary, what seems to me incontestably Mme, 
 Duse's is her singular charm and grace, her sweet- 
 ness and tenderness. On that account her search for 
 the truth, her solicitude to avoid the exhibition of 
 any artifice, her realism, so very minute and so very 
 sincere, reach even to poetry. Hers is the unique 
 charm of a matured woman — impassioned, bruised, suf- 
 fering, nervous — in whom, however, survives a young 
 and ingenuous grace, almost that of a young girl, of a 
 strange young girl." 
 
 There were other articles of a similar kind, animated 
 by the same spirit, revealing, beyond question, a pro- 
 found sense of appreciation and recognition. In cafes, 
 clubs, and polite conversation, the change of tide was 
 equally noticeable. The mention of Duse's name was 
 no longer in danger of disparaging restrictions; it 
 
Du$e (iiid tbe Trend). 49 
 
 was immediately coupled with unquestioning words 
 of praise. 
 
 Bernhardt's Last Shot. 
 
 And now came the final episode. It afforded Bern- 
 hardt a chance for one more shot; but the only mis- 
 sile at her command proved, this time, to be a boom- 
 erang. 
 
 No sooner had Sarcey's written request been placed 
 before Duse, than she responded at once how happy 
 and honored she would be to comply with it. She 
 would give the performance on any day her Parisian 
 confreres might choose, and play for them whatever 
 they liked. M. Sarcey had only to notify her of their 
 decision. 
 
 The date was fixed a week in advance, for Saturday, 
 July 6. 
 
 But inasmuch as Duse's term of engagement for 
 Bernhardt's theatre had expired, a letter had to be 
 written to Bernhardt, then in London, explaining the 
 situation, and asking permission to use her theatre. 
 This was done by Duse's manager, who offered the 
 regular price for the theatre. 
 
 Bernhardt's response came immediately in the form 
 of a telegram, which was prettily worded. She was 
 most happy to offer her theatre gratuitously, and es- 
 teemed it a privilege to be thus associated with the 
 triumph of her comrade. Such a privilege, indeed, did 
 she consider it, that she must request that the invitations 
 for the great occasion should bear her name and Duse's 
 side by side. 
 
 7 
 
so Duse and tbe frencb. 
 
 But the time of Duse's illusions was passed, and there 
 was one role she was determined not to play any 
 longer. That was the role of a dupe. The situation, 
 however, was delicate, for she wished to give no one 
 offense. Her answer was charming. 
 
 "But," she said to Sarcey, "there are not to be any 
 invitations in the usual sense of the word. I could not 
 invite my companions in France to come and admire 
 me. That would be too presumptuous." 
 
 Her French friends, anxious to avoid unpleasantness, 
 tried to persuade her by pretending that, inasmuch 
 as Bernhardt was willing to assume half of the respon- 
 sibility, her share would be so much the less. But Duse 
 maintained her position. 
 
 "No," she said. "It is the Parisian artists who in- 
 vite me. I place myself at their disposal. That is all 
 that I can do." 
 
 Telegrams were sent backwards and forwards from 
 Paris to London, without any approach at a solution. 
 Bernhardt's were skilfully worded, but their meaning 
 was none the less intelligible. Since Duse did not seem 
 willing to accede to her generosity, the performance had 
 better be abandoned. 
 
 For once, however, the "divine Sarah," with all her 
 adroitness, did not see her project realized. The per- 
 formance was not abandoned. 
 
 Duse's manager, after some difficulty, was able to 
 secure another theatre. Then it was announced that, 
 owing to the great demand for places, La Renais- 
 
Du$c and tbe Treitcb. 51 
 
 sance was judged too small for the performance, which 
 would therefore be shifted to La Porte St. Martin. 
 This was Duse's answer to Bernhardt. It checkmated 
 her. 
 
 The news leaked out in the papers before long, and 
 Bernhardt's motives were understood. They aroused 
 renewed sympathy for her intended victim, while the 
 idea of her own discomfiture permitted a smile of ridi- 
 cule. The boomerang whizzed back. 
 
 The Apotheosis of Duse. 
 
 Nearly fifteen thousand applications for seats were 
 received by Duse's manager. There was only room for 
 a little over one-tenth of that number, and the awarding 
 of tickets was an arduous and delicate task. All but a 
 hundred of them were given gratuitously to celebritier, 
 in the world of art and letters — actors, managers, paint- 
 ers, litterateurs, journalists. One hundred tickets were 
 sold in order to pay expenses, and the purchasers of 
 these were all prominent members of the nobility. 
 
 Here, then, was another gala performance, not 
 less unique than the other, and unique in a different 
 sense. 
 
 Sarcey, looking back over forty years' experience, 
 said of the audience before the curtain went up: 
 
 "It was one of the most beautiful houses I have 
 ever seen, for from top to bottom it was quivering 
 with sympathy. I could not do better than compare 
 it with a violin whose strings are tightened and ready 
 to vibrate under the bow. There was electricity in 
 the air. It was not only a gala which pleases more 
 
5a Dttsc and tbe f rencb. 
 
 especially by the brilliancy of the names, the splendor of 
 toilettes, the radiance of diamonds and bared shoulders. 
 On such occasions usually enthusiasm is always ready, 
 but there is always something about it to suggest its 
 artificiality and unmeaningness. There was none of that 
 this time. They were all gens de metier and men of the 
 world, who are men of taste, and they had come there 
 with the conviction that they were about to see some- 
 thing new and something superior. 
 
 "It was the first time I have seen an audience thus 
 formed and in such a frame of mind. There was no 
 artificial commotion ; it was expectation, full of security 
 and joy.** 
 
 It will be many years, perhaps, before Paris has an- 
 other such moment ; Duse will probably never. Actresses 
 of such mettle are not born in France every season, 
 nor are they usually found all-equipped, like Minerva, 
 rising from the head of Jove. And such a people, 
 similarly disposed, and thus represented on a given oc- 
 casion, are not apt to be met with twice in the life of 
 even a genius. 
 
 The effect of the performance was such that it may 
 be regarded as the essential climax of Duse's remark- 
 able career, while it will mark henceforth an important 
 date in the art-life of a race. 
 
 To appreciate this, it is only necessary to read the 
 account published next morning in the "Figaro." It 
 was signed by Jules Huret. 
 
 "I am afraid as I take up my pen, yes, afraid of my 
 incompetence to describe, in a few rapid moments, the 
 
Duse and the Trencb. 53 
 
 powerful, the profound emotion of those three hours, 
 where an entire audience composed of the flower of 
 French comedians, of well-known writers, great paint- 
 ers and celebrated sculptors, honored a foreign artiste 
 with the most vibrating, the most enthusiastic, the most 
 poignant manifestation that it is possible to witness. 
 
 "I do not know if the annals of dramatic art dis- 
 close a similar case, but the occasion was an important 
 one for the history of the French theatre, which must 
 be noted simply and sincerely as a document of human 
 emotion. 
 
 "The great theatre of La Porte St. Martin was 
 crowded from top to bottom, overflowing. Here are 
 some of the names of those present." 
 
 Half a i:olumn is here devoted to a list of the greatest 
 names in France. 
 
 "Throughout the house, a fever of expectation. A 
 certain number of those present have already seen the 
 actress, and the nature of certain things said about her 
 has aroused curiosity and interest, has even awakened 
 the idea of a revolt, a reaction against opinions already 
 expressed. Will it be a combat ? Will it be an apotheosis ? 
 An exciting problem which suggests an arena, at the 
 moment there appears to fight against the 'Ramparts' 
 and the 'Terrors,' an unknown champion, confident in 
 his force and his loyalty. 
 
 "But the curtain rises on *Cavalleria Rusticana.* 
 At the very beginning of the first scene, some of the 
 audience, touched by the suffering expression, and the 
 weary, despairing gait of Santusza, break out with ap- 
 
54 Duse and tht f rencb. 
 
 plause. And henceforth at every moment of the brief 
 Italian drama, this assembly of specialists, familiar 
 with all the technique of the stage, penetrating and 
 lucid observers, emphasize with murmurs of approval 
 every true accent, every faithful movement, every elo- 
 quent look of the great artiste. From scene to scene 
 the enthusiasm grows; discreet murmurs keep circu- 
 lating to indicate the collective admiration; and the at- 
 mosphere of the house is created, definitely. It is 
 finished; I feel that the battle is already won — too 
 soon for my combative tendencies, but just in time to 
 make this unique audience complete and pure. For 
 it was possible to observe then a strange and admi- 
 rable phenomenon — ^the force and the nobleness of true 
 art. If this gathering of artists was applauding with 
 unanimous enthusiasm, it was not only because it per- 
 ceived clearly the genius of la Duse; those hravas did 
 not merely signify the competent praise of experts, 
 moved by the interpretation of emotional life, of grief 
 and love, which was palpitating before them — the ap- 
 plause meant even more. It was the unconscious and 
 impulsive translation of their love of their art, the 
 homage they paid over and above the interpreter, to 
 their ideal — to their art thus ennobled before them, 
 which added to their own feelings of pride. Yes, it 
 was, indeed, such a sentiment of infinite gratitude that 
 la Duse must have felt about her amid the incessant 
 thunder of ovations. 
 
 "What is there to say of the rest of this unparalleled 
 performance? 
 
 "After each act that was played, after *Cavalleria,' 
 
Du$e and tbe Trench. 55 
 
 after the fifth act of *La Dame aux Camelias' — which 
 la Duse never acted so well before, according to her 
 friends — as I went among the crowd, I did not suc- 
 ceed in hearing one single discordant note in the gen- 
 eral emotion. I met the leading artists of the Come- 
 die FrariQaise, and the most celebrated of our 'stars,' 
 and from their lips I heard only the sincere expression 
 of admiration, without reserve. Not only did I see 
 women's eyes red and swollen, but the eyes of the 
 most exasperating comedians were also moist with 
 tears. . . . 
 
 "When the curtain goes up on the second act of 
 'La Femme de Claude' there is a noticeable movement 
 in the house. After Santusza, dragging her feet pain- 
 fully through the Sicilian village; after Marguerite 
 Gautier, dying and neglected, here is Cesarine, tri- 
 umphant and poisonously beautiful. This magical 
 transformation produced a long sensation. The ac- 
 tress was, no doubt, conscious of it, for never did her 
 smile have more perverse charm or her eye more 
 venomous brilliancy. 
 
 "The curtain fell, after numberless interruptions, on 
 the second act of *La Femme de Claude,' which ended 
 the performance, whereupon the whole audience rose 
 to its feet, bravas and vivats thundered through the 
 house, handkerchiefs and hats were waving, flowers 
 flew from boxes — *Au revoir! Au revoir! Au revoir!' 
 — and ten times the curtain had to be raised before the 
 smiling actress, who did not attempt to conceal her J9y. 
 
 "Then the stage was immediately invaded by the 
 crowd. Some wished only to see her once again; 
 
56 Duse ana tbe f rencb. 
 
 some must embrace her; others asked for a flower 
 from the bunch she held in her hand. During one 
 whole hour the procession did not cease. I saw there 
 young actresses and rising actors, with tears in their 
 eyes, not daring to approach her. . . . Coquelin 
 wishes to act with her just once, and begs her to play 
 in French. 
 
 "'You will find it so easy!' he says. 'Only try, and 
 you will see what success you will have !' 
 
 "Madame Marie Laurent comes also, and slowly, with 
 sober words, expresses her admiration. The Ambassa- 
 dor of Italy and his wife arrive in their turn, and con- 
 gratulate her with happy faces. And her troupe, who 
 leave to-day for Italy, wait to say good-by until the 
 flood of visitors has passed. 
 
 " *Go, go ; you are free !' she says to them. 'Thanks — 
 thanks to you all, a thousand times !' 
 
 "She kisses them, much moved. They look at her 
 affectionately. 
 
 "At last I ask her, 'When do you leave ?' 
 
 "And laughing with her beautiful white teeth, she 
 answers : 'Never, never ! I will never leave France !' " 
 
 Next day Duse was invited by the Comedie Frangaise 
 to a farewell breakfast in the Bois de Boulogne. She 
 went there, surrounded by that numerous and unrivaled 
 company, and found herself at a fete of sunshine. Amid 
 toasts, speeches, and congratulations, she was treated 
 as the queen. 
 
 And Bernhardt was waiting in London for the news ! 
 
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 BERKELEY 
 
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 THE UNIVERSITY OF CAUFORNIA UBRARY