Identifier: memoriesofmylife00bern (find matches)
Title: Memories of my life : being my personal, professional, and social recollections as woman and artist
Year: 1907 (1900s)
Authors: Bernhardt, Sarah, 1844-1923
Subjects:
Publisher: New York : D. Appleton
Contributing Library: University of California Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: MSN

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no reason at all, and fits of terrorwithout any cause. Everything seemed to take strange propor-tions, as far as I was concerned. One day one of my little friendsdropped a doll that I had lent her ( for I played with dolls untilI was over thirteen). I began to tremble all over, as I adoredthat doll, which had been given to me by my father. You have broken my dolls head, you naughty girl! I ex-claimed. You have hurt my father! I would not eat anything afterwards, and in the night I wokeup in a great perspiration, with haggard eyes, sobbing: Papa is dead! Papa is dead! * Three days later my mother came. She asked to see me inthe parlor, and making me stand in front of her, she said : My poor little girl, I have something to tell you that willcause you great sorrow. Papa is dead. I know, I said, I know, and the expression in myeyes, my mother frequently told me afterwards, was such thatshe trembled a long time for my reason. I was very sad and not at all well. I refused to learn any- 36
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SARAH BERNHARDT AND HER MOTHER. I BEGIN MY CONVENT LIFE thing except the catechism and Scripture, and I wanted to be anun. My mother begged to have my two sisters baptized withme; Jeanne, who was then six years old, and Regina, who was notthree, but who had been taken as a boarder at the convent, withthe idea that her presence might cheer me a little. I Avas isolated for a week before my baptism and for a weekafterwards, as I was to be confirmed the week after my baptism. My mother, Aunt Rosine Berendt, and Aunt Henriette Faure,my godfather, Regis Lavallee, M. Lesprin, Jeannes godfather,and General Poles, Reginas godfather, the godmothers of mytwo sisters, and my various cousins all came and revolutionizedthe convent. My mother and my aunts were in fashionablemourning attire. Aunt Rosine had put a spray of lilac in herbonnet to enliven her mourning, as she said. It was astrange expression, but I have certainly heard it since used byother people besides her. I had never before felt so

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