I shall not easily forget my first vision of Sarah Bernhardt in Dumas’ play of _L’Étrangère_, in which she was associated with Coquelin, Monnet, Sully, and Croizette. She seemed, even beside such accomplished players as these, to be a creature of a separate race, endowed with a force and intensity of feeling that made those around her appear to be moving in a lower world. It was, however, only when she came to London that I got to know her personally, and after I had produced my play of _King Arthur_ at the Lyceum Theatre, she was so strongly attracted by the subject that she had a French version of the drama prepared, wherein she intended herself to impersonate the character of Lancelot. But, like so many other projects which Madame Bernhardt has from time to time entertained, the favourable opportunity for such a performance passed by, and the idea was replaced by other and more pressing demands upon her brilliant career. When she was in London she was a constant guest at Irving’s little suppers at the Lyceum, where she evinced the warmest admiration for the genius of Miss Ellen Terry. One evening, when Miss Terry was protesting that she was no longer young enough to undertake some rôle that Irving was pressing her to interpret, Sarah leant across the table and said, “My dearling, there are two peoples who shall never be old--you and me.” And, indeed, it may be allowed that in both cases the boast has won some warrant from nature. The youth of Miss Terry seems to be an indestructible gift. It is born again with each day of her existence, and as an essential quality of her nature has suffered no change and has known no deterioration from the early days when, after a brief period of absence, she returned to the stage as the heroine of Charles Reade’s drama, _The Wandering Heir_. I think Sarah Bernhardt was always at her best when Miss Terry was one of her audience, and I recollect one occasion in particular, when, in company with Miss Terry, I witnessed a performance of the _Dame aux Camelias_ which in sincerity and power far surpassed any of the many representations of the character which I had seen Madame Bernhardt previously deliver. It was a particularly interesting evening, for it happened that only a few nights before Miss Terry and I had also together seen Madame Duse play the same part in the same theatre. Here again, I think, the Italian actress was finely inspired by the presence of her comrade, for she too had on that evening surpassed herself. The contrast between the two performers was striking and complete, and would go far to prove how inexhaustible are the resources of the actor’s art, and how varied the influences of each separate personality, even when they are employed upon the same material. CHAPTER XIX THE WORK OF THE THEATRE