roads of meditation. His realities came
to him from a genuine source, from this universe of vain appearances
wherein we men have found everything to make us proud, sorry, exalted,
and humble.

Maupassant's renown is universal, but his popularity is restricted. It
is not difficult to perceive why. Maupassant is an intensely national
writer. He is so intensely national in his logic, in his clearness, in
his aesthetic and moral conceptions, that he has been accepted by his
countrymen without having had to pay the tribute of flattery either to
the nation as a whole, or to any class, sphere or division of the nation.
The truth of his art tells with an irresistible force; and he stands
excused from the duty of patriotic posturing. He is a Frenchman of
Frenchmen beyond question or cavil, and with that he is simple enough to
be universally comprehensible. What is wanting to his universal success
is the mediocrity of an obvious and appealing tenderness. He neglects to
qualify his truth with the drop of facile sweetness; he forgets to strew
paper roses over the tombs. The disregard of these common decencies lays
him open to the charges of cruelty, cynicism, hardness. And yet it can
be safely affirmed that this man wrote from the fulness of a
compassionate heart. He is merciless and yet gentle with his mankind; he
does not rail at their prudent fears and their small artifices; he does
not despise their labours. It seems to me that he looks with an eye of
profound pity upon their troubles, deceptions and misery. But he looks
at them all. He sees--and does not turn away his head. As a matter of
fact he is courageous.

Courage and justice are not popular virtues. The practice of strict
justice is shocking to the multitude who always (perhaps from an obscure
sense of guilt) attach to it the meaning of mercy. In the majority of
us, who want to be left alone with our illusions, courage inspires a
vague alarm. This is what is felt about Maupassant. His qualities, to
use the charming and popular phrase, are not lovable. Courage being a
force will not masquerade in the robes of affected delicacy and
restraint. But if his courage is not of a chivalrous stamp, it cannot be
denied that it is never brutal for the sake of effect. The writer of
these few reflections, inspired by a long and intimate acquaintance with
the work of the man, has been struck by the appreciation of Maupassant
manifested by many women gifted with t