wer; indeed, though I was tolerably familiar with French verse and
prose of the day, it seemed to me that I had not seen so much promise in
any new writer since Baudelaire's death;[483] and I informed my editor
that, though I had not the slightest objection to blessing Maupassant, I
certainly would not curse him. He thought the blessing not likely to
please his public, while it would annoy his correspondent, and on my
representation declined to have anything to do with the cursing. So
_nous passasmes oultre_, except that, like Mr. Bludyer, I "impounded"
the book; but, unlike him, did not either sell it, dine off it, or abuse
the author.

Shortly afterwards, I think, the _Soirees de Medan_ reached me, and this
very remarkable person appeared likewise, but in a new character.
Certainly no one can ever have shown to better advantage in company than
M. de Maupassant did on this occasion. _L'Attaque du Moulin_, which
opened the volume, has already been spoken of as part of the best of all
M. Zola's voluminous work. But as for the works of the young men, other
than M. de Maupassant, they had the Naturalist faults in fullest
measure, unredeemed by their master's massive vigour and his desperate
intensity. The contribution of M. Huysmans, in particular (_v. inf._)
has always appeared to me one of those voluntary or involuntary
caricatures, of the writer's own style and school, which are well known
at all times, and have never been more frequent than recently. But
_Boule de Suif_? Among the others that pleasant and pathetic person was
not a _boule_; she was a pyramid, a Colossus, a spire of Cologne
Cathedral. Putting the unconventionality of its subject aside, there is
absolutely no fault to be found with the story. It is as round and
smooth as "Boule de Suif" herself.

Maupassant's work is of very substantial bulk. Of the verse enough for
our purpose has been or will be said, though I should like to repeat
that I put it much higher than do most of Maupassant's admirers. The
volumes of travel-sketches do not appear to me particularly successful,
despite the almost unsurpassed faculty of their writer for sober yet
vivid description. They have the air of being written to order, and they
do not seem, as a rule, to arrive at artistic completeness either
objectively or subjectively. Of the criticism, which concerns us more
nearly, by far the most remarkable piece is the famous Preface to
_Pierre et Jean_ (to be mentioned again below