merit in his so doing. According to his theory, the artist may, or should, represent that which is true to life, that which really is; that which is fine, and therefore pleases him; and even that which may be useful as material for "science"; but that to take into consideration questions as to what is moral or immoral, right or wrong, is not the artist's business.
I remember a celebrated painter showing me a picture of his representing a religious procession. It was beautifully painted, but no relation of the artist to his work was perceptible.
"Now tell me, do you regard these ceremonies as good, and necessary to be carried out, or not?" I asked him.
With some condescension to my simplicity, he told me he did not know about that, and did not think it necessary to know; his business was to represent life.
"But at least you sympathize with this?"
"I cannot say I do."
"Well, do you, then, dislike these ceremonies?"
"Neither the one nor the other," answered, with a smile of compassion at my silliness, this modern, profoundly cultured artist, who represented life without understanding its purpose, neither loving nor hating its phenomena. And so, it is to be regretted, thought Maupassant.
In his preface to "Pierre et Jean," he says that the writer is usually bidden to "Console me, amuse me, sadden me, touch my heart, make me muse, make me laugh, make me tremble, make me weep, make me think. Only some chosen minds bid the artist compose something beautiful in the form which most agree with your temperament."[1]
It was to gratify this demand of "chosen minds" that Maupassant wrote his novels, naïvely imagining that what is regarded as fine in his circle is indeed that beauty which art must serve.
And in the circle in which Maupassant moved, that beauty which has been, and is, regarded as necessarily to be served by art is principally woman, and sexual
- ↑ Faites moi quelque chose de beau dans la forme qui vous conviendra le mieux d'après votre tempérament.
