ARISTIDE MAILLOL
BY WALTER AGARD
BORN in Provence, a country of all Western lands most like Greece, Aristide Maillol has among moderns come closest to achieving the Allgemeinheit of the Olympia pedimental sculptors and Polyclitus. Banyuls-sur-Mer gave him in his youth serene skies, clear outlines, a sinewy countryside of drowsy orchards shimmering in the hot sun, wrapped in violet mist at dusk, silver in moonlight; and people who now, as in the days of the princes of Les Baux, live a full-flavoured, sensuous life. "For the waves of the centuries and their tempests and their horrors in vain distract the people and efface frontiers. Maternal Earth, Nature, always nourishes her sons with the same milk; from her hard breasts she will still provide for the olive the fine oil." These are the words of Frédéric Mistral, their poet, who speaks of his countrymen as a race of eagles, an ancient people, proud and free.
"Di grand famiho prouvençalo,
Raço d'eigloun, jamai vassalo,"
with their soul joyous, fiery and vigorous.
"Amo de longo renadivo,
Amo jouiouso e fiero e vivo."
It has been frequently pointed out that the regeneration of French art has come from the provinces. None of them can claim so great credit in the visual arts as Provence: witness Cézanne and Maillol.
Paul Gauguin was Maillol's early master in design, a teacher of spacious effects, forms broadly conceived and generously grouped. But although he was interested in painting and more especially in tapestry design, Maillol recognized that only in stone and bronze could he secure the amplitude and suavity that he most cherished. No sculptor has ever better loved stone as stone, or shaped his ex-
