By "Lo Petit Gosse."
Brief cable despatches from Paris state that Mme. Sarah Bernhardt died on Monday evening, but neglect to add that her spirit, her indomitable will, her; glowing fire of expression, hex exotic grace, her vibrant personality will live for ever as cherished memories in the hearts of all whom she cared to call friend. The "yoia door? may be stilled, but the courageous soul that was the earthly translation of " Liberté, Egalié, Praternite" cannot be crushed, but will live on and on through' the years.
It was my exceptional good fortune not only to meet me. Bernhardt in many of the odd corners of the world under circumstances which were not always conventional, but also to gain an insight into one of the truest as wel] og one of the most quixotic characters that ever lived, through a firm and fast friendship over an extended period of time. we Our little elocution school was holding Spring Commencement Exercises in one of the grim, bare and terribly stuffy little rehearsal halls adjacent to the Odeon The-atte, in Paris, frequently used by! members of the Odeon company for their interminable répétttions when the great stage was occupied by more important members of the company. We were all brushed and brilliantined within an inch of our lives and I wore a terribly high "choker" collar that was my pride and joy. The little hall was packed with doting relatives and friends and the narrow stage was occupied by an array of ancient and more or less honourable judges, all of whom appeared bored to distinction, but who had been inveigled in to distribute the prizes. Our dismal performance was practically over and would be concluded when I had finished reciting Victor Hugo's "Apparition" with a nicety of studied gesture and a delicrie balance of voice. I had reached the transitional stanza "Zs-tu la mort? lui dis-jo, on bien est la vie"? when I heard the decor open behind me, and with a gentle rustling of silks someone entered and remained standing quietly. Despite the interruption, I resolved! ta continue at all costs without satisfying my curiosity, and recite ed with a do or die attitude completely neglecting everything I had studied about gesture or voice placement,—the concluding—lines which ran:
Et Vango devint noir, et dit;—Je suis Vamour.
Mais son front sombre tait plus charment que lo jour, jo voyais, dans Jombre of brillaient ses pronelies, Les astres a travers les plumes de ses ailes, "His, His, encore," I heard a rich melodious voice behind me and turning I saw Mme. _Berhardt, herself, applauding. It was too much after the excitement of the day, and hot tears ran down my face. She quickly moved te my side and took my head in her white hands, "There, there, Petit Gosse. You did beautifully. But you are only a fledgling! Why in Heaven's name did you ever choose a poem about love, you who could never have experienced it. My son, you must live and laugh and love,—aye and suffer, before you can ever hope to feel what real love is. An actor, to be successful, must simulate the emotions of mankind to the best of his ability, and to portray them truly and faithfully he must have lived and bled and died a thousand times to depict a single thought or expression. Come with me to my dressing room and after we have had some brioches and tea, you may watch the dress rehearsal of Phédre from the wings.' Thus our friendship began. oe Five husky cowpunchers and myself had ridden the best part of two days and nights across the Texas plains at my suggestion to see "The French Woman" act in a piece called "The Young Eagle." (L'Aigion)—all about birds and nature—and arrived at Laredo considerably the worse for wear. After bedding down our horses for the night and a hasty meal a "McAllisters" we hotta it with the rest of Laredo to the Opera House, and managed by great good luck to get seats in the first balcony by paying $15 each for them Since we could get only one programme I endeavoured to explain what the play was about. All seemed disappointed at first ~that the Eaglet" was not real, but only a nickname for a young fellow who wanted to get back his kingdom.
The play progressed in its ordinary sequence and the house became absolutely still. When Mme. Bernhardt made her entrance) a rustle stirred the whole audience: and after she had finished reciting her opening lines she received an ovation, yet I will hazard that there were certainly not more than five men in the whole audience that knew what she was saying. When the final curtain fell, pandemonium broke loose. The audience demand ed encore after encore, finally insisted upon her stepping down from the footlights and seating herself in a blanketed chair which was carried aloft to the hotel, the centre of a torchlight procession.
At the impromptu supper that followed I presented my five companions and acted as official inter-prefer. '"'Petit Gosse, it is just Jike a breath from my own country, meeting you in this far off land
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.