of characterization, _The Evangelist_ proved that his genius was not
at home in those fields. Instead of marking an ordered advance, this
overwrought study of Protestant bigotry marked not so much a halt, or a
retreat, as a violent swerving to one side. Yet in a way this swerving
into the devious orbit of the novel of intense purpose helped Daudet in
his progress towards naturalism, and imparted something of stability to
his methods of work. _Sapho_, which appeared next, was the first of his
novels that left little to be desired in the way of artistic unity and
cumulative power. If such a study of the _femme collante_, the mistress
who cannot be shaken off--or rather of the man whom she ruins, for it
is Gaussin, not Sapho, that is the main subject of Daudet's acute
analysis--was to be written at all, it had to be written with a resolute
art such as Daudet applied to it. It is not then surprising that
Continental critics rank _Sapho_ as its author's greatest production; it
is more in order to wonder what Daudet might not have done in this line
of work had his health remained unimpaired. The later novels, in which
he came near to joining forces with the naturalists and hence to losing
some of the vogue his eclecticism gave him, need not detain us.

And now, in conclusion, how can we best characterize briefly this
fascinating, versatile genius, the most delightful humorist of his time,
one of the most artistic story-tellers, one of the greatest novelists?
It is impossible to classify him, for he was more than a humorist, he
nearly outgrew romance, he never accepted unreservedly the canons of
naturalism. He obviously does not belong to the small class of the
supreme writers of fiction, for he has no consistent or at least
profound philosophy of life. He is a true poet, yet for the main he has
expressed himself not in verse, but in prose, and in a form of prose
that is being so extensively cultivated that its permanence is daily
brought more and more into question. What is Daudet, and what will he