elegantly dressed all the word's a stage, and all the men and women merely players

Some people grasp this truth more thoroughly than others, and I believe they are the elegant ones. Take Sarah Bernhardt. I love this photograph of her: unlike all the simpering Beaux-Arts in-character shots, where she really is on the stage (or pretending to be), this is her as herself, a persona she created and made real more than any unselfconscious, unregarding, "natural" self-expression.

Here's some indication of Bernhardt's greatness in this respect:

"In 1915, during an unfortunate performance in the title role of Victorien Sardou's drama La Tosca, Sarah Bernhardt injured her right leg so badly that it had to be amputated. While she was recovering, the manager of the Pan-American Exposition (in San Francisco) asked for permission to exhibit her leg, offering $100,000 for the privilege. Bernhardt cabled this reply: 'Which leg?'

She hummed the Marseillaise as she was wheeled down the hospital corridor and afterwards used a wheelchair, disdaining prostheses and crutches - bearers instead carried the divine Sarah around in a specially designed litter chair in Louis XV style with gilt carving, like a Byzantine princess. Immediately upon leaving the hospital, she filmed Jeanne Doré (1915), again directed by Louis Mercanton. She was shot either standing or sitting; this in fact pinned her down and forced her to use facial expression rather than movement and helped her performance. The five-reel film, distributed by Universal in the U.S., got rave reviews and reflected well upon both its game star and the industry as an art form. For ovations she stood on one leg, held on to a piece of furniture, and gestured with one arm.

Shortly after the amputation, she visited the WWI front lines near Verdun to perform for French troops in mess tents, hospital wards, open market places and ramshackle barns. Propped in a shabby armchair, she recited a patriotic piece to war-dazed men fresh from the trenches. When she ended with a rousing 'Aux armes!' they rose cheering and sobbing. '

The way she ignored her handicap was beautiful', wrote an actress who accompanied her. 'A victory of the spirit over the failing flesh'."

She also knew how to make the best of curly hair.

Sarah Bernhardt was "the divine" until she died on March 26, 1923 - eighty-five years ago today - having never retired from the stage.