ed even in the collection of the
British Museum. It is not hard to account for our indifference to M. De
Banville. He is a poet not only intensely French, but intensely
Parisian. He is careful of form, rather than abundant in manner. He has
no story to tell, and his sketches in prose, his attempts at criticism,
are not very weighty or instructive. With all his limitations, however,
he represents, in company with M. Leconte de Lisle, the second of the
three generations of poets over whom Victor Hugo reigned.

M. De Banville has been called, by people who do not like, and who
apparently have not read him, _un saltimbanque litteraire_ (a literary
rope-dancer). Other critics, who do like him, but who have limited their
study to a certain portion of his books, compare him to a worker in gold,
who carefully chases or embosses dainty processions of fauns and maenads.
He is, in point of fact, something more estimable than a literary rope-
dancer, something more serious than a working jeweller in rhymes. He
calls himself _un raffine_; but he is not, like many persons who are
proud of that title, _un indifferent_ in matters of human fortune. His
earlier poems, of course, are much concerned with the matter of most
early poems--with Lydia and Cynthia and their light loves. The verses of
his second period often deal with the most evanescent subjects, and they
now retain but a slight petulance and sparkle, as of champagne that has
been too long drawn. In a prefatory plea for M. De Banville's poetry one
may add that he "has loved our people," and that no poet, no critic, has
honoured Shakespeare with brighter words of praise.

Theodore de Banville was born at Moulin, on March 14th 1823, and he is
therefore three years younger than the dictionaries of biography would
make the world believe. He is the son of a naval officer, and, according
to M. Charles Baudelaire, a descendant of the Crusaders. He came much
too late into the world to distinguish himself in the noisy exploits of
1830, and the chief event of his youth was the publication of "Les
Cariatides" in 1842. This first volume contained a selection from the
countless verses which the poet produced between his sixteenth and his
nineteenth year. Whatever other merits the songs of minors may possess,
they have seldom that of permitting themselves to be read. "Les
Cariatides" are exceptional here. They are, above all things, readable.
"On peut les lire a peu de frais,"