taineers were not less foreign to the Parisian drawing-room than
was Aziyade or the little Rahahu. One claimed to have a knowledge
of Brittany, or of the Pyrenees, because one had visited Dinard or
Biarritz; while in reality neither Tahiti nor the Isle of Paques could
have remained more completely unknown to us.

The developments of human industry have brought the extremities of the
world nearer together; but the soul of each race continues to cloak
itself in its own individuality and to remain a mystery to the rest of
the world. One trait alone is common to all: the infinite sadness of
human destiny. This it was that Loti impressed so vividly on the reading
world.

His success was great. Though a young man as yet, Loti saw his work
crowned with what in France may be considered the supreme sanction: he
was elected to membership in the French Academy. His name became coupled
with those of Bernardin de St. Pierre and of Chateaubriand. With the
sole exception of the author of _Paul and Virginia_ and of the writer of
_Atala_, he seemed to be one without predecessor and without a master.
It may be well here to inquire how much reason there is for this
assertion, and what novel features are presented in his work.

It has become a trite saying that French genius lacks the sense of
Nature, that the French tongue is colourless, and therefore wants the
most striking feature of poetry. If we abandoned for one moment the
domain of letters and took a comprehensive view of the field of art, we
might be permitted to express astonishment at the passing of so summary
a judgment on the genius of a nation which has, in the real sense of the
term, produced two such painters of Nature as Claude Lorrain and Corot.
But even in the realm of letters it is easily seen that this mode of
thinking is due largely to insufficient knowledge of the language's
resources, and to a study of French literature which does not extend
beyond the seventeenth century. Without going back to the Duke of
Orleans and to Villon, one need only read a few of the poets of the
sixteenth century to be struck by the prominence given to Nature in
their writings. Nothing is more delightful than Ronsard's word-paintings
of his sweet country of Vendome. Until the day of Malherbe, the didactic
Regnier and the Calvinistic Marot are the only two who could be said to
give colour to the preconceived and prevalent notion as to the dryness
of French poetry. And even after Malhe