The reader will readily understand that these unjust criticisms by a celebrated writer are given here merely as evidence of the vanity of theatrical criticism. In January and February 1873, Mlle. Sarah Bernhardt appeared successively as Junie in _Britannicus_, as Mademoiselle de Belle-Isle, and as Cherubin in _Le Mariage de Figaro_. With the exception of M. Sarcey the newspaper critics paid little attention to her. He thought her one of the best Cherubins he had ever seen: the incarnation of the adventurous youngster, the little scamp who is sure to be never without a sweetheart. She had all the self-consciousness of the big school-boy, with the audacity and impetuousness of a young bantam. She conveyed an impression of desire without love. Next month her struggles began again with the production of _Dalila_ by Edmond About. Her friends seemed inclined to abandon her. M. Sarcey was far from encouraging-- I fear, he said, that the management has made a mistake in already giving Mlle. Sarah Bernhardt leading parts. I do not know whether she will ever be able to fill them, but she certainly cannot do so at present. She is wanting in power and breadth of conception. She impersonates soft and gentle characters admirably, but her failings become manifest when the whole burden of the piece rests on her frail shoulders. Apparently forgetting that, only a year before, he had declared Mlle. Sarah Bernhardt the only possible successor to Mlle. Favart, M. Sarcey added-- After her two celebrated predecessors, Mlles. Fargueil and Favart, Mlle. Sarah Bernhardt has excited little more than a benevolent curiosity. She can do nothing really badly, for she is an artiste to the tips of her fingers, but her voice has no sarcasm or irony, and is simply hard and distinct. Moreover, her whole personality is stiff. There is no clinging softness about her. She is more harsh than cold, and more cold than catlike. Auguste Vitu indulged in a little fun over her thinness, and described her as “a needle made to look as neat as a new pin.” “There is nothing of the sorceress about her,” he added, “except the magic wand--herself.” Paul de Saint-Victor was unmerciful--