The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1885-04-10
Gnded Poverty.
a visit 70 sarah Bernhardps New QHar-
ters.
paris correspondence.l

Nfarl5 OOrFespOndencoJ
So the little house in the Rue Fortuny is to
be sold. The bills are on the walIs-"350,-
900 francs for desirable vills''-and Sarah,
who lately queened within, has had to move
into new quarters. "Poor Sarahp' say
some-her friends and courtiers-sighing
and looking the unspoken eve always knew
itP' "Poor Sarahp' sneer others-her enc
mics and rivals-adding triumphantly set
serves her right. Why did she make fool
OF herseli?"
Would You not think that the object of all
these sighs aud snee.s was wretched, poor
and needyP A visit to "poor Sarah" would
dispel the illusion. Her poverty is gilded.
Her villa is for sale. That is annoying,
of course. But to comfort her she has now
mansion three times as big and far more
splendid. She has had to part with her pic
lures, curios and furniture. They have sold
her skeletons aud seized her coffin. But
what of that? NJ. Duquesnel has bought
back most of the pictures, and as for the un-
dertaking tri1es, she had grown tired Of
them.
Her creditors have impounded three-ffthn
Of The 1900 francs she earns nightly. But
even Sarah can live on the 600 francs left
her, and it she ever happens to need little
more, doubtless she bas friends and admir-
ers in plenty who will help her.
Lastly, she has a certain interest in the
Porte St. Martin. And so long as Theodore
is true to herself the Porte st. Martin ough.
to be paying property.
Six hundred francs to day a great bour-
geoise would be fortune. To Sarah 1t is
rather less. of course. All her life long she
has been luxurious, careless of cost, fooIishly
generous When she lived in the Rue For
tuny she often had not franc to buy q loaf
and wine with. The bakers In the quarter
refused her credit, aud her maid Felicie often
paid her butchers bills. She has often kept
open house, and is preyed upon by parasites.
And half the money she earns in the even
ing Is tilched from her by dead beats next
morning. Three times day she entertains.
Her 'intimates" sit down with her at lunch.
Her critics at dinner. Her comrades and
adorers prefer the suppers. A sixth of her
600 francs goes for table expenses. Twenty
francs day at least is spent on firing. For.
ty francs must be set aside for the hire of a
carriage, and thirty more-Theodora is the
authority for the estimate-hardly cover the
daily outlay for rouge and cosmetics.
lt is no small matter TO keep up hotel,
pay servants and be hospitable in Paris.
Such hotel, above all, as the one in the
Rue st. Georges with rooms enough in it for
small garrison, more like many mansions
you might find in the ''noble faubourg.O
than an actress abode on the skirts of the
quarter Breda. Sarah has only rented the
hotel. as yo0 know; but her landIady, Nine.
Hesse, the bankers widow, has omitted
nothing that could make her charming ten
ant feel at home and comfortable.
Outwardly the hotel is not imposing. It
stands within a few yards of the Rue de la
Victoire, almost facing the house which Au-
Der lived in, and stones throw from the
historic dwelling of NJ. Theirs. Once within
the massive gates of the building, however,
things change. You pass from the dark
and rather dismal street to vast, square
court. Facing you, one side of the quad
rangle is occupied by an Italian terrace,
built above gallery. To the right and left
OF you are two monumental staircases. That
on the left leads straight to the reception
room of Theodore. The walls are adorned
with paintings in the taste of the 17th CEN
tury, and as you ascend the broad stone
steps, richly carpeted, to the half open door
on the first floor, the dull, soft sound of an
organ and of voices chanting is borne on
your ear from the adjoining synagogue.
What is this vision in white and gold
which fits by as you enter and send in your
cardP A pail, strange vision OF woman
with waxen face, and with two dreamy
eyes, and crown Of yellow hair. Yes, il is
Sarah, "poor Sarah, herself, who presently
glides back again and beckons her visitor
from he outer room to her sanctum, She
is dressed, as usual, in peignoir, the dress
OF all others which becomes her. As usual,
she is winning and gracious. How she
manages to be so is mystery; tor at half
past seven she must be at the Porte st. Mar
tin, and Il is six already, and dinner is wait
Ing IN the sale manger. Better go In with
her for moment and see the room. It Is
worth seeing, with its tapestried walls and
two great buffets, its painted windows and
its handsome array of serves and silver. In
the Rue Fortuny Sarah used to affect high
backed ancient chair at meals. Just such
oneis at the table awaiting her now, bnt
all else is more luxurious and bourgeois.
Suppose we follow her FROM her dinner to
her bedroom on the second floor. The walls
are covered with pale blue satin hangings
The bed, adorned with rich gilt bronze, is
hung with satin of the same shade. Ad-
joining is pale blue boudoir, which does
duty as Sarah's study; a white and blJle
dressing room, fragrant with flowers, ami a
bathroom, with artistic tile walls, which
would delight the hearts of good Americans,
The bath is hidden from profane visitors by
blue plush drapery. On one of the walls Is
a large looking glass.
Returning from these vestal chambers to
the first floor, Sarah may just have time 10
give her visitor peep at her two grand
drawing rooms, with the red silk hangings
and furniture. She may show you the
tavorite palm, which she brought with her
from her villa in the Rue Fortuny; her Or
gan and her piano. And then she may lead
you sweety to the door, murmuring Eau
revoir," as she rushes back to her bedroom
to dress for the nightly journey to the Porte
81 Martin