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Updated: May 31, 2025
Nor are Colman and Jonson alone in their tribulations. Sheridan was hissed, and so were Goldsmith and Fielding and Coleridge and Godwin and Beaumarchais and About and Victor Hugo and Scribe and Sardou, and many another, including Charles Lamb, who cheerfully hissed his own Mr.
Behind the hocus-pocus of such fine-sounding words, the bombast, the theatrical clash and clang of the swords and pasteboard helmets, there was always the incurable futility of a Sardou, the intrepid vaudevillist, playing Punch and Judy with history. When in the world was the like of the heroism of Cyrano ever to be found?
Sardou had asked for and obtained from the Conservatoire six months leave for his young protegee, but Esperance would on no account consent to give up her classes. The only concession she would make was to give up the afternoon classes twice a week. The press began to notice this infant prodigy, who wished to remain quite unheralded until her debut.
So in the 'Tosca' of M. Sardou, the torture of the hero, if we were to see it, might be received with incredulity, but we are far more likely to accept it as real when we perceive it only thru the sufferings of the heroine at the sight of it.
"'Oh, nothing, he answered; 'it's that little Sarah Bernhardt who has cleared off to Spain! "'That girl from the Francais who boxed Nathalie's ears? "'Yes. "'She's rather amusing. "'Yes, but not for her managers, remarked Montigny, continuing immediately afterwards the conversation which had been interrupted." This is exactly as Victorien Sardou related the incident.
But before the public has ever seen her she is famous, and Sardou affirms that the day after her appearance she will be the idol of all Paris. I owe it to the profession of journalism to write her up in my paper, and I am doing it, you must admit, with the utmost reserve." And so at last the day of the performance came.
It is not surprising, on the whole, to find the critical tribe turning for relief from this somewhat unpleasant display of Gallic closet skeletons to the discreet exhibition of a few carefully chosen bones in the plays of Bernstein and Bataille, direct descendants of Scribe, Sardou, et Cie, but I may be permitted to indulge in a slight snicker of polite amazement when I discover these gentlemen applying their fingers to their noses in no very pretty-meaning gesture, directed at a grandson of Molière.
"Perhaps because I am an artist, and it seemed inartistic to intervene to interrupt the action at an inopportune moment to stultify what promised to be an unusually involved complication. When first I saw and recognized you on the Nevski, it was like one of those divine surprises of the master dramatist, M. Sardou. Really, I was indebted for the thrill of it.
At sight of them his face lighted up. "I was afraid that you had forgotten me in the joy of your success." The girl looked at him in amazement. "How could I forget when I had given my word?" "You know Victorien Sardou?" "Only to-day," said Esperance laughing; "yesterday we did not know him." They were back in the reception-room which was only a little less noisy than it was in the morning.
It is with great anxiety, I admit to you, that I have given her permission to follow a theatrical career, so now I must consult her, while still trying to advise." Then to the maid, "Ask Madame and Mademoiselle to come here." Sardou came up to the professor and pressed his hand gratefully. "You are consistent with your principles. I congratulate you; that is very rare," he said.
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