pression in stricter conformity to his material. As Roger Fry has pointed out, Rodin's unity lies in the perfection of each part, the subtlety of modelling within the morceau, whereas Maillol's lies in the proper relation of all the parts to a completely realized whole. Eliminating all but the essential planes, employing splendid generalizations, he creates figures which are indivisible entities. Like a potter, someone has said, he moulds his clay always with a vision of the final form in mind.
Compare his Flora with Antenor's Kore. Both have the same plastic volume. They differ chiefly in the fact that the Kore has characteristically Greek intellectual clarity, whereas Maillol's is more sensuous. The sixth century B. C. figure is also of a more aristocratic stamp; her garment is more mannered; she is a sister of those coquettish maidens in the Acropolis Museum. Maillol's is more rustic in type, disdainful of tribute, placidly offering her plenty. Study the head. Every feature is simplified; the eyes, with their narrow, sharply-cut lids, the hair a smooth, undifferentiated mass, the frank and fearless face, with its broad brow, full, sober lips, and ample cheeks in planes that fluidly merge into each other. So also in the body; over the full breasts and the flanks the drapery clings like wet silk, with only a few folds indicated, and those in quietly undulating curves. Like the flesh planes, it is continuous, without one rigid line, one distracting angle. The figure is invested with dignity; the arms are permitted no gesture; even though displaying the girdle of flowers they remain pressed to the sides; and the feet are planted surely, with the left advanced only to relieve the effect of rigidity. This is no agitated Flora, rioting with Cupids and cornucopias. She suggests, instead, the expansiveness and inclusiveness of the earth itself.
For another suggestive comparison, place Maillol's Adolescence beside Rodin's Age of Bronze. Maillol's modelling is not so restlessly realistic; his figure is set quietly, without strain, and all the planes are subdued. The lower part of the body rises as surely as a column, in a long, elegant line, while the graceful detail is reserved for the upper part. The hair is indicated by a very few blunt incisions. This is realistic only in comparison with such a figure as the so-called Idolino in Florence, a work of the Polyclitan school and a masterpiece of cool simplification.
This same sense for graceful line and continuous volumes may be
