the holy trinity~ diet, exercise and bathing... That, and an unwavering interest in life!
"Life in all its phases has an untiring charm for her." That sentence, we are told by Charles Henry Meltzer, contains the secret of Sarah Bernhardt's power and of her youthfulness still, although sixty-one years have passed over her head, and most of them have been years of storm and strenuosity...
..."In private life the most adulated actress of her day is very simple and very interesting. She has faults (which of us has not?), but she has virtues and great qualities. Her nerves may, to outsiders, make her appear 'sensational.' But in her own home she is a rare comrade, a kind mother, a staunch friend. She is happiest, as she herself would tell you, when, after a hard season at her Paris house or 'on the road,' she retires to her plain little house—an abandoned fort—on the island of- Belle-Isle, in Brittany. There, amid solitude and savagery, and there only, she rests and lives naturally. Her companions are the peasants, the rude fisher folk and the cure of the village in which at times she attends mass. For, though by race a Jewess, she is — or she believes she is — a devout Catholic. Echoes of Paris are brought down to her, even in this retreat, by the artists whom she admits to her intimacy. But at Belle-Isle she shakes off the wearing tyranny, the enthralling spell, the relentless influence of the stage, and reveals herself as a mere woman. Witty to a fault, insatiably curious, an excellent listener and a delightful talker, she makes an ideal hostess. She is interested not only in her own art, but in the affairs of others. Life in all its phases has an untiring charm for her. That is, perhaps, the secret, if there be a secret, of the strange power and youth which, at an age when most are ready to retire, she still enjoys."
source: "Sarah Bernhardt at 61", Current Literature, Volume 40, 1906
“ I want to help you to grow as beautiful as God meant you to be when he thought of you first. Nowhere else in the world,” Dr. Caissarato said, “has the giant of material progress worn such huge seven-league boots as in that young republic of yours; but with all your progress and success you have been culpably blind concerning certain fundamental principles which underlie every fair structure that is being built for all time. You have squandered health as recklessly as a child tosses sands upon the seashore.”
And health means beauty. Health is the pilot that guides us into the port of perfection, and without health all the artificial aids to beauty are as valueless as if we poured a bucket of fresh water into the sea to wash out the salt. Madame Bernhardt has been such a conspicuous figure, both for her wonderful histrionic powers and her marvelous youth, that a few words in regard to this amazing patient of Dr. Caissarato will, I feel sure, prove of interest to the many women who have followed her career with eagerness.
It was while I was in Paris a few years ago that I became acquainted with Dr. Caissarato, a man as famous as physician and beauty culturist as she is as actress. Through him I had the pleasure of having tea with the tragedienne, and enjoyed a half-hour’s chat in homelike familiarity over the tea table. She was well over sixty, and was as supple and active as a woman of forty. I think it was her wonderful activity which first impressed me, her extreme gracefulness and easy, lithe movements that have fascinated so many across the footlights. Not only does she possess youth of body and face, but a youthfulness of thought and expression. Perhaps she divined what was passing in my mind, for she laughingly turned to Dr. Caissarato, a small, serious-faced man with keen eyes and wonderful acumen in judging character.
“Tiens,” she laughed, as she pointed to him dramatically, “I owe it all to him, n’est ce pas? But he makes you work, nothing but work .”
Caissarato smiled.
“To accomplish anything one must work. To build a house, it is work; to train a fine thoroughbred horse, it is work; to cultivate rare roses, it is work.”
Perhaps the doctor’s simile was not very clear, but I understood what he meant. The perfecting of the human body, the culture of beauty, like the culture of rare roses, takes time, and one must work; but, ah, the result! Is it not worth while to keep the perfection of youth and the charm of girlhood intact?
The actress shrugged meaningly.
“What has he made you do, madame?” I asked, eagerly.
“What has he not made me do!” she exclaimed.
“Ah, but I have trained, I have exercised, and bathed—the trinity of beauty, mademoiselle, the three handmaidens that we women who wish to be charming must obey faithfully. Is it not so, Doctor?”
Dr. Caissarato had been with Sarah Bernhardt fourteen years, and during that time he had labored firmly and loyally, implanting his system, and attending to the physical needs of the greatest actress the world has seen.
A few days later I was in the doctor’s office undergoing one of his famous “blueray” treatments for impaired circulation, and once more I approached the subject of Sarah Bernhardt’s youthfulness and undying charm.
“She told you the truth when she said I made her work,” he said. “What happens to a house if you go away and leave it uncared for? It becomes filled with dust and dirt, and in time it falls into ruin and decay. It is so with the human house, the body; if it is not polished and dusted and nourished it falls into ruin. In other words, old age sets in and youth flees.”
“What do you advise the average woman to do to keep herself in condition?” I asked.
“What I make Madame Bemhardt do,” he answered, quickly. “Diet, exercise, bathe.”
“Madame was right, it is the trinity of beauty; without those three no woman can keep her youth or her good looks. The careful woman who prides herself upon her appearance and charm will not find it difficult to comply with a few simple rules. It is not tedious work to become supple and lovely; there is no complex system to follow out; but interest and persistency are needed. The indifferent woman soon grows to look careless and shows the unfailing marks of neglect and the ravages of time. I have no patience with the careless woman,” Caissarato went on, with a touch of contempt; “what is more unattractive than an untidy, badly groomed woman? Health, good looks, charm, youth, are the blessed inheritance of every woman, but through neglect and lack of persistency and cultivation the rose plant bears no roses.”
“Most women are too busy to devote several hours a day to exercises and bathing,” I protested.
“Several hours a day are not necessary. With Madame Bernhardt it is another matter. Her vitality, after each performance, is lowered, and through the emotional parts she plays her nerves are exhausted; therefore she needs extra attention, and the repair work must be done at once. For the average woman half an hour a day will work wonders.”
“And the diet?” I asked.
Dr. Caissarato looked at me, turned off the battery, and motioned to the nurse to remove the glass globe.
“What do you want to know?”
“ I want a concise statement of what you deem necessary for the average woman to do to keep youthful.”
“ H’m.” Caissarato looked thoughtful.
“ Is it very expensive?”
" No, any woman can afford to diet properly, exercise a certain amount, and bathe.”
“But your system of baths is expensive.”
“ Not at all. There are some baths (beauty baths) that are very costly; but the simple-stimulating baths can easily be afforded by the woman of small means.
Take dieting, for instance; you Americans eat too many sweets and drink too much tea and coffee. They are bad for the nerves, and anything that affects the nervous system is disastrous to beauty. Drink plenty of pure water, cooled—not iced. Eat simple, nourishing foods, and exercise every day, and take either a tub or a regular bath of some stimulating herbs.”
Caissarato took up a handful of dried leaves from a cabinet and held them out to me.
“Dried rosemary, costing a few pennies, is far better for the skin than impure soap. I disapprove utterly of the hot, soapy baths American women indulge in daily.
“These cleansing baths are bound to make the flesh flabby, and flabby flesh is the forerunner of wrinkles. The outer layer of skin begins to shrink, and then old age shows its touch. Get up half an hour earlier in the morning, take a few brisk exercises, bend the body backward and forward, twist slowly from the waist."
“Madame Bernhardt does these faithfully for a half-hour every morning. Then take a warm bath with either salt or, if preferred, a milky bath of herbs."
“Spray the body afterward with cold water, or dilute a good toilet vinegar with water and dash it over the body. Dry with a rough towel, and brush the body thoroughly with a stiff flesh-brush. This will bring up the circulation, which is the great secret of youth—-the blood must flow freely, thus rousing a sluggish liver and throwing off the germs of old age. Eat a light breakfast, and I guarantee you will feel like a different woman.”
According to Dr. Caissarato, the essential thing is to open the pores of the skin by the bath, which is to be followed by abundant friction. Its influence upon body and mind is purifying and invigorating, preparing one for any duty or perplexity that the day may have in store; especially when sleep has not been restful. He says that the warm salt tub will often restore the vitality as much as three or four hours of sleep.
“It is only by experimenting that a woman can determine the frequency and the temperature of baths which best agree with her,” he continued. “No arbitrary rules can be laid down.
“No one should remain in the bath, be it hot, warm, or cold, longer than half an hour, and in most cases ten minutes is long enough. A good substitute for the celebrated beauty bath of milk—the one Sarah Bernhardt has used successfully for years—is the following: Marshmallow flowers, half a pound; hyssop herb, onequarter of a pound; bran flour, four pounds.
“This can be put into an ordinary bath.”
A French device for a calming bath of which Caissarato speaks highly is in the spring and summer to toss three handfuls of wild cowslips into the warm water. An old French beauty bath which has been used by Bernhardt for years is printed herewith. This is unequaled for softening, whitening, and preserving the flesh, and the ingredients are inexpensive and can be procured without difficulty. Caissarato puts great faith in the continued use of this,.and claims that it has preserved the firmness of the tragedienne’s skin, rendering it soft and supple.
After this bath one should take a cup of warm milk, or a raw egg beaten to a froth, or some cooked fruit and a biscuit. Having taken this light meal, Madame Bernhardt shuts herself in her boudoir and studies a new part, or reads. She is then ready for a simple luncheon.
“Long fasts,” Caissarato said, “are extremely bad for the woman who wishes to preserve her youth.
Eat less and oftener, and above all take some easily digested food just before retiring; it induces sleep and calms the nerves. Madame has a light supper on leaving the theater, and after a half-hour’s rest is rubbed down with a mixture of alcohol, camphor, and salt."
“This is the rule for making the rubdown compound":
“ Take a quart bottle, half fill it with pure alcohol, dissolve one ounce of gum camphor in the alcohol, then put in two tablespoonfuls of salt; fill the bottle with water and it is ready to use.
“It is the continued use of one thing that suits you,” says Caissarato, “that brings the desired result. Following this system for a week, then leaving it off for two, will have no effect. Persistency in following out these simple rules has been the magic that Madame Sarah Bernhardt has used to retain her wonderful youth."
The following formulas for toilet vinegars are two that are highly recommended by Caissarato, and can easily be put up, costing but a trifle.
This can be used either plain or diluted, and is very whitening. The following is more elaborate, and should be diluted.
Let infuse for ten days, then bottle for use. This, as well as the other, can be used with great effect on the face and neck.
Dissolve the alum in the rose-water, then pour slowly into the almond milk, stirring constantly. Bottle and use when needed.
Boil, in two quarts of water for an hour. Strain and add two quarts of the decoction to the bathing water, in which there should previously have been dissolved an ounce each of borax and bicarbonate of soda.
source: How to be Beautiful, by Marie Montaigne, 1913
Dr. Caissarato is also referenced in this post:
Modern Fountains of Youth~ 1913
..."In private life the most adulated actress of her day is very simple and very interesting. She has faults (which of us has not?), but she has virtues and great qualities. Her nerves may, to outsiders, make her appear 'sensational.' But in her own home she is a rare comrade, a kind mother, a staunch friend. She is happiest, as she herself would tell you, when, after a hard season at her Paris house or 'on the road,' she retires to her plain little house—an abandoned fort—on the island of- Belle-Isle, in Brittany. There, amid solitude and savagery, and there only, she rests and lives naturally. Her companions are the peasants, the rude fisher folk and the cure of the village in which at times she attends mass. For, though by race a Jewess, she is — or she believes she is — a devout Catholic. Echoes of Paris are brought down to her, even in this retreat, by the artists whom she admits to her intimacy. But at Belle-Isle she shakes off the wearing tyranny, the enthralling spell, the relentless influence of the stage, and reveals herself as a mere woman. Witty to a fault, insatiably curious, an excellent listener and a delightful talker, she makes an ideal hostess. She is interested not only in her own art, but in the affairs of others. Life in all its phases has an untiring charm for her. That is, perhaps, the secret, if there be a secret, of the strange power and youth which, at an age when most are ready to retire, she still enjoys."
source: "Sarah Bernhardt at 61", Current Literature, Volume 40, 1906
BERNHARDT’S SECRETS of BEAUTY
And health means beauty. Health is the pilot that guides us into the port of perfection, and without health all the artificial aids to beauty are as valueless as if we poured a bucket of fresh water into the sea to wash out the salt. Madame Bernhardt has been such a conspicuous figure, both for her wonderful histrionic powers and her marvelous youth, that a few words in regard to this amazing patient of Dr. Caissarato will, I feel sure, prove of interest to the many women who have followed her career with eagerness.
It was while I was in Paris a few years ago that I became acquainted with Dr. Caissarato, a man as famous as physician and beauty culturist as she is as actress. Through him I had the pleasure of having tea with the tragedienne, and enjoyed a half-hour’s chat in homelike familiarity over the tea table. She was well over sixty, and was as supple and active as a woman of forty. I think it was her wonderful activity which first impressed me, her extreme gracefulness and easy, lithe movements that have fascinated so many across the footlights. Not only does she possess youth of body and face, but a youthfulness of thought and expression. Perhaps she divined what was passing in my mind, for she laughingly turned to Dr. Caissarato, a small, serious-faced man with keen eyes and wonderful acumen in judging character.
“Tiens,” she laughed, as she pointed to him dramatically, “I owe it all to him, n’est ce pas? But he makes you work, nothing but work .”
Caissarato smiled.
“To accomplish anything one must work. To build a house, it is work; to train a fine thoroughbred horse, it is work; to cultivate rare roses, it is work.”
Perhaps the doctor’s simile was not very clear, but I understood what he meant. The perfecting of the human body, the culture of beauty, like the culture of rare roses, takes time, and one must work; but, ah, the result! Is it not worth while to keep the perfection of youth and the charm of girlhood intact?
The actress shrugged meaningly.
“What has he made you do, madame?” I asked, eagerly.
“What has he not made me do!” she exclaimed.
“Ah, but I have trained, I have exercised, and bathed—the trinity of beauty, mademoiselle, the three handmaidens that we women who wish to be charming must obey faithfully. Is it not so, Doctor?”
Dr. Caissarato had been with Sarah Bernhardt fourteen years, and during that time he had labored firmly and loyally, implanting his system, and attending to the physical needs of the greatest actress the world has seen.
A few days later I was in the doctor’s office undergoing one of his famous “blueray” treatments for impaired circulation, and once more I approached the subject of Sarah Bernhardt’s youthfulness and undying charm.
“She told you the truth when she said I made her work,” he said. “What happens to a house if you go away and leave it uncared for? It becomes filled with dust and dirt, and in time it falls into ruin and decay. It is so with the human house, the body; if it is not polished and dusted and nourished it falls into ruin. In other words, old age sets in and youth flees.”
“What do you advise the average woman to do to keep herself in condition?” I asked.
“What I make Madame Bemhardt do,” he answered, quickly. “Diet, exercise, bathe.”
“Most women are too busy to devote several hours a day to exercises and bathing,” I protested.
“Several hours a day are not necessary. With Madame Bernhardt it is another matter. Her vitality, after each performance, is lowered, and through the emotional parts she plays her nerves are exhausted; therefore she needs extra attention, and the repair work must be done at once. For the average woman half an hour a day will work wonders.”
“And the diet?” I asked.
Dr. Caissarato looked at me, turned off the battery, and motioned to the nurse to remove the glass globe.
“What do you want to know?”
“ I want a concise statement of what you deem necessary for the average woman to do to keep youthful.”
“ H’m.” Caissarato looked thoughtful.
“ Is it very expensive?”
" No, any woman can afford to diet properly, exercise a certain amount, and bathe.”
“But your system of baths is expensive.”
“ Not at all. There are some baths (beauty baths) that are very costly; but the simple-stimulating baths can easily be afforded by the woman of small means.
Take dieting, for instance; you Americans eat too many sweets and drink too much tea and coffee. They are bad for the nerves, and anything that affects the nervous system is disastrous to beauty. Drink plenty of pure water, cooled—not iced. Eat simple, nourishing foods, and exercise every day, and take either a tub or a regular bath of some stimulating herbs.”
Caissarato took up a handful of dried leaves from a cabinet and held them out to me.
“Dried rosemary, costing a few pennies, is far better for the skin than impure soap. I disapprove utterly of the hot, soapy baths American women indulge in daily.
“These cleansing baths are bound to make the flesh flabby, and flabby flesh is the forerunner of wrinkles. The outer layer of skin begins to shrink, and then old age shows its touch. Get up half an hour earlier in the morning, take a few brisk exercises, bend the body backward and forward, twist slowly from the waist."
“Madame Bernhardt does these faithfully for a half-hour every morning. Then take a warm bath with either salt or, if preferred, a milky bath of herbs."
“Spray the body afterward with cold water, or dilute a good toilet vinegar with water and dash it over the body. Dry with a rough towel, and brush the body thoroughly with a stiff flesh-brush. This will bring up the circulation, which is the great secret of youth—-the blood must flow freely, thus rousing a sluggish liver and throwing off the germs of old age. Eat a light breakfast, and I guarantee you will feel like a different woman.”
According to Dr. Caissarato, the essential thing is to open the pores of the skin by the bath, which is to be followed by abundant friction. Its influence upon body and mind is purifying and invigorating, preparing one for any duty or perplexity that the day may have in store; especially when sleep has not been restful. He says that the warm salt tub will often restore the vitality as much as three or four hours of sleep.
“It is only by experimenting that a woman can determine the frequency and the temperature of baths which best agree with her,” he continued. “No arbitrary rules can be laid down.
“No one should remain in the bath, be it hot, warm, or cold, longer than half an hour, and in most cases ten minutes is long enough. A good substitute for the celebrated beauty bath of milk—the one Sarah Bernhardt has used successfully for years—is the following: Marshmallow flowers, half a pound; hyssop herb, onequarter of a pound; bran flour, four pounds.
“This can be put into an ordinary bath.”
After this bath one should take a cup of warm milk, or a raw egg beaten to a froth, or some cooked fruit and a biscuit. Having taken this light meal, Madame Bernhardt shuts herself in her boudoir and studies a new part, or reads. She is then ready for a simple luncheon.
“Long fasts,” Caissarato said, “are extremely bad for the woman who wishes to preserve her youth.
Eat less and oftener, and above all take some easily digested food just before retiring; it induces sleep and calms the nerves. Madame has a light supper on leaving the theater, and after a half-hour’s rest is rubbed down with a mixture of alcohol, camphor, and salt."
“This is the rule for making the rubdown compound":
“ Take a quart bottle, half fill it with pure alcohol, dissolve one ounce of gum camphor in the alcohol, then put in two tablespoonfuls of salt; fill the bottle with water and it is ready to use.
“It is the continued use of one thing that suits you,” says Caissarato, “that brings the desired result. Following this system for a week, then leaving it off for two, will have no effect. Persistency in following out these simple rules has been the magic that Madame Sarah Bernhardt has used to retain her wonderful youth."
The following formulas for toilet vinegars are two that are highly recommended by Caissarato, and can easily be put up, costing but a trifle.
LAIT VIRGINAL
Tincture of benzoin, 1/2 ounce.
Tincture of vanilla, 2 drachms.
Triple rose-water, 1 1/2 pints.
TONIC VINEGAR
Oil of bergamot, 12 grammes.
Oil of citron, 10 grammes.
Tincture of benzoin, 12 grammes.
Extract of lavender, 30 grammes.
Pure white vinegar, 1 3/4 pints.
BERNHARDT’S WRINKLE-ERADICATOR
Alum, 6o grains.
Almond milk, 1 1/2 ounces.
Rose-water, 6 ounces.
BERNHARDT’S BEAUTY BATH
Barley, 2 pounds.
Rice, 1 pound.
Pulverized lupin seed, 3 pounds.
Bran, 6 pounds.
Oatmeal, 2 pounds.
Lavender, 1/2 pound.
source: How to be Beautiful, by Marie Montaigne, 1913
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| The Divine Sarah |
Modern Fountains of Youth~ 1913
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