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This is a reproduction of a book published before 1923. This book may have occasional imperfections such as missing or blurred pages, poor pictures, errant marks, etc. that were either part of the original artifact, or were introduced by the scanning process. We believe this work is culturally important, and despite the imperfections, have elected to bring it back into print as part of our continuing commitment to the preservation of printed works worldwide. We appreciate your understanding of the imperfections in the preservation process, and hope you enjoy this valuable book.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780353607873
Publisher: Creative Media Partners, LLC
Publication date: 11/13/2018
Pages: 374
Product dimensions: 6.14(w) x 9.21(h) x 0.88(d)

Read an Excerpt

CHAPTER II TO THE ARTIST ALL IN NATURE IS BEAUTIFUL IN Rodin's great atelier at Meudon stands a cast of that statuette, so magnificently ugly, which the great sculptor wrought upon the text of Villon's poem, La Belle Heaulmiere. The courtesan, once radiant with youth and grace, is now repulsive with age and decrepitude. Once proud of her beauty, she is now filled with shame at her ugliness. " Ha, vieillesse felonne et fiere, Pourquoi m'as tu si tot abattue? Qui me tient que je ne me fiere (frappe) Et qu'a ce coup je ne me tue!"1 1 See page 249. The sculptor has followed the poet step by step. The old hag, more shrivelled than a mummy, mourns her physical decay. Bent double, crouching on her haunches, she gazes despairingly upon her breasts so pitiably shrunken, upon her hideously wrinkled body, upon her arms and legs more knotty than vine stocks. " Quand je pense, las! au bon temps, Quelle fus, quelle devenue, Quand me regarde toute nue Et je me vois si tres changee. Pauvre, seche, maigre, menue, Je suis presque tout enragee! Qu'est devenue ce front poli, Ces cheveux blonds. . . . Ces gentes epaules menues, Petite tetins, hanches charnues, Elevees, propres, faictisse (faites a souhait) A tenir d'amoureuses lices; C'est d'humaine beaut£ I'issue! Les bras courts et les mains contraictes (contractees), Les epaules toutes bossue. Mamelles, quoi! toutes retraites (dessechees) Telles les hanches et que les tettes! Quant aux cuisses, Cuisses ne sont plus, mais cuissettes GriveMes comme saucisses! " 1 The sculptor does not fall below the poet in realism. On the contrary, his work, in the horror which it inspires, is perhaps even more impressive than the truculent verses of MaitreVillon. The skin hangs hi flaccid folds upon the skeleton; the rib...

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