perception achieves great results, as in men of action the energy of
force and desire. His view of intellectual problems is perhaps more
simple than their nature warrants; still a man who has written _Yvette_
cannot be accused of want of subtlety. But one cannot insist enough upon
this, that his subtlety, his humour, his grimness, though no doubt they
are his own, are never presented otherwise but as belonging to our life,
as found in nature, whose beauties and cruelties alike breathe the spirit
of serene unconsciousness.

Maupassant's philosophy of life is more temperamental than rational. He
expects nothing from gods or men. He trusts his senses for information
and his instinct for deductions. It may seem that he has made but little
use of his mind. But let me be clearly understood. His sensibility is
really very great; and it is impossible to be sensible, unless one thinks
vividly, unless one thinks correctly, starting from intelligible premises
to an unsophisticated conclusion.

This is literary honesty. It may be remarked that it does not differ
very greatly from the ideal honesty of the respectable majority, from the
honesty of law-givers, of warriors, of kings, of bricklayers, of all
those who express their fundamental sentiment in the ordinary course of
their activities, by the work of their hands.

The work of Maupassant's hands is honest. He thinks sufficiently to
concrete his fearless conclusions in illuminative instances. He renders
them with that exact knowledge of the means and that absolute devotion to
the aim of creating a true effect--which is art. He is the most
accomplished of narrators.

It is evident that Maupassant looked upon his mankind in another spirit