[dropcap]S[/dropcap]arah Bernhardt’s special train rolled into Dallas on Jan. 24, 1892 for the first of four Texas stops on her “Grand World Tour.” Texans flocked to see the famous French actress, but those who missed the golden opportunity would get a second chance.
After her initial trek across the United States in 1880, the internationally acclaimed “Divine Sarah” regularly returned for profitable encores over the next 37 years. Even more than the sensation her dazzling presence always created, Bernhardt relished the impressive box office receipts. Whenever the “Pride of Paris” ran short of cash, she could count on adoring Americans to help her get back on her dainty feet.
The Lone Star State finally appeared on the Bernhardt itinerary during a two-year marathon billed as her “Grand World Tour.” Showing incredible stamina, she appeared in 170 cities, including 1892 dates in Dallas, Fort Worth, Galveston and Houston.
Fourteen years later, financial necessity dictated another U.S. visit appropriately promoted at age 62 as Madame Bernhardt’s “Farewell Tour.” But times had changed, and by 1906 a powerful syndicate controlled every theater and opera house in the country. When the European star refused to cut a blatantly unfair deal, the greedy monopoly retaliated by banning her from the American stage.
Three enterprising brothers suggested that Bernhardt entertain outdoors under a huge circus tent. To their amazement, the aging actress eagerly agreed and the show soon hit the road.
Following the usual opening leg on the East Coast, the Bernhardt Special chugged through the South en route to Texas. Besides the opulent private car of the star attraction, the train included three coaches and three baggage cars that carried the sets for six different plays as well as the acting troupe, two maids, two male servants, a masseuse, private secretary and full-time attendant for the leading lady’s canine companions.
The Dallas and Waco appearances went smoothly, but few fans in Austin braved a torrential downpour and knee-deep mud to attend the tent show on the grounds of the temporary capitol. Goaded either by conscience or behind-the-scenes arm-twisting by the state attorney general, the owner of the local opera house risked the wrath of the vindictive syndicate and welcomed Bernhardt to his dry premises.
Meanwhile, in the Bayou City, The Daily Post advertised the three scheduled performances of “the world’s peerless emotional actress.” To take the sting out of the steep prices, a buck for general admission and $5.00 for a box, the public was warned, “This is positively Bernhardt’s last appearance in Houston.”
Since the taxpayer rather than the sinister syndicate called the shots at the city auditorium, all went well in Houston. The Friday, March 30, 1906 feature was “La Sociere,” which cast Bernhardt as a gypsy accused of sorcery by the Spanish Inquisition, an ironic role in view of the fact that a Brazilian priest once condemned her as a witch.
Although “La Sociere,” like all Bernhardt plays, was presented in French, the enthusiastic audience never lost interest. The packed house frequently burst into wild applause, and at the end of the memorable night two oversized florals were bestowed upon the diva.
The matinee and evening performances the following day were smash successes as well. In biding adieu to “the distinguished tragedienne,” The Post editorialized, “It can be stated, without immodesty we think, that in point of culture, refinement and love of art, Madame Bernhardt has found her Texas audiences equal to any which has greeted her anywhere.”
Tyler was treated to the last thespian gasp from the tired traveling troupe. A misty eyed admirer gushed, “Texans are glad to have you, madame, but we do not like this calling it a farewell trip.” Pointing toward the heavens, Bernhardt replied, “It is not my fault. It is His.”
Despite this melodramatic hint at her imminent demise, Bernhardt lived another 17 years and practiced her craft right up until the very end. As advertised, 1906 was indeed her Lone Star swan song, but the lure of big money enticed her to make three more “farewell tours” of America between 1910 and 1917.
The world was at war when Bernhardt mounted her final stateside comeback. The ravages of time were plainly visible on the 73 year old face of “Divine Sarah,” who not only tried to turn back the clock but also attempted to ignore the loss of a leg recently amputated below the hip. The most famous woman on earth had deteriorated into a painfully pitiful sight.
On her deathbed six years later, Sarah Bernhardt retained her razor ship wit. Aware that the press was keeping a vulture vigil outside her door, she quipped, “All my life reporters have tormented me enough. I can tease them now a little by making them cool their heels.”
Bartee’s three books “Texas Depression-Era Desperadoes,” “Murder Most Texan” and “Texas Boomtowns: A History of Blood and Oil” are available for purchase at barteehaile.com.
