One of the colleagues of Sully-Prudhomme, who has written frankly of his personality and poetry, is Anatole France. In the biography of the latter, _Anatole France: the Man and His Work_ by James Lewis May,[9] among the vignettes written of the group of poet-friends who discussed life and literature, is a typical sketch of Sully-Prudhomme, at the age of thirty-six, “mathematical and even geometrical in his sonnets.” He stressed his intellectuality, as well as his handsome face and wealth. More illumining, and far more sympathetic, is the analytic study of Sully-Prudhomme, in the chapter entitled “Three Poets” in Anatole France’s critiques _On Life and Letters_, first series, translated by A. W. Evans.[10] Comparing Sully-Prudhomme, François Coppée and Frédéric Plessis, the critic finds in the first poet, “in his favour, not only the mysterious gifts of the poet but, in addition, an absolute sincerity, an inflexible gentleness, a pity without weakness, and a candour, a simplicity that lift his philosophical scepticism, as it were on wings, into the lofty regions whither formerly the mystics were exalted by faith.” As a friend and confidant, he extols this man of gentle melancholy, sentimental yet reflective, romantic yet philosophical. Edward Dowden, in his essay on “Some French Writers of Verse,”[11] attributes the seeming unhappiness, or melancholy of Sully-Prudhomme, reflected in some of his poetry, to the lack of a creed or a loyalty to which he can give absolute devotion. He calls him “an eclectic” and finds an analogy in the tale of _Merlin_, the poetical romance by Edgar Quinet. He stresses the almost feminine sensitiveness of this poet, a woman’s tenderness which in no way diminishes his manly vigor. An individual of “harder or narrower personality” would not have been so disturbed by the conflicts between reason and emotion, by the deterrents to perfect happiness. Ill health for many years was a contributory factor, doubtless, to many moods of introspective sadness. He suffered from partial paralysis in later years. Francis Grierson in _Parisian Portraits_[12] gives a graphic, intimate picture of this “typical Academician” with grace of manners and intuitive insight into people, waging war against his illusions with the part of his mind that was scientific, and maintaining his poetic vision by his sensitive emotions. At his home in the rue de Faubourg he always welcomed younger poets. He seldom went into society, although he was often found at the salons of Countess Diane de Beausacq, the author of _Maximes de la vie_. This woman of independent spirit and beautiful hair, who was dressed in tones of lavender, was an inspiration to the poet. Together they discussed philosophy and art; Sully-Prudhomme emphasized “the aristocracy of the mind,” the eternal quality of poetry, music, taste, and judgment.