March 14, 1823

Théodore de Banville (March 14, 1823 to March 13,  1891) was a French writer. He wrote a lot of poetry, criticism, essays, theatrical works. He spent his prolific life in Paris.  Here is a sample, and it is a translation so we can draw no real assessment of his artistic value; some loose excerpts from "Harlequin" follow.

HARLEQUIN

From the cat he steals his grace,
From the dog his whiskered face.
He has taken from the king
Of his purple robe a string;
....
From the Spring this lawless fellow
Has purloined a bit of green,
....
...
On his feet are scarlet shoon;
With quicksilver— gay buffoon!—
They are lined; and how they prance
In some ancient, pagan dance!
At his hat I laugh aloud:
Did he carve it from a cloud?
He's an organ grinder's ape—
Yet how lithe his graceful shape!

Amorous and half-divine,
Who, the more the monster beats,
More adores his knavish feats.
With what hideous flutterings,
Like a moth with painted wings,

Now he clasps her fluid charms
In his careless, cruel arms—
Courts, caresses, entertains
In conquered and enchanted lanes,

Theodore de Banville defended the traditional poetic forms, but somehow his kindness and busyness allowed him to fit in with the great writers of that French century. Each generation has them, these prolific writers, famous for just their own times.They have a mark of destiny on them, just not the destiny of the great writer. Or perhaps, their work reflects their own times so nicely that it is not possible to realistically evaluate their writing. Or--- perhaps, they shared the bond of cat loving. 

For example, Mallarme had a cat, named Lilith. Lilith came from a litter of de Banville's cat. De Banville's cat  had been a kitten of  Eponine's. Eponine was a cat belonging to Theophile Gautier. Hard to imagine a more aristocratic lineage.