A plague has infected the world--the plague of
repression. Don't you think that the man who made this Faun was
entitled to dine well?"
"I cannot quite make it out," said Denis, still examining the
statuette.
"Ah! How does it make you feel?"
"Uneasy."
"You are unaware of a struggle between your own mind and that of the
artist? I am glad. It is the test of beauty and vitality that a
beholder refuses to acquiesce at first glance. There is a conflict to
be undergone. This thing thrusts itself upon us; it makes no
concessions, does it? And yet one cannot but admire! You will seldom
encounter that sensation among the masterpieces of the Renaissance.
They welcome you with open arms. That is because we know what the
creators were thinking about. They are quite personal and familiar;
they had as many moods, one suspects, as a fashionable prima donna.
They give pleasure. This Faun gives pleasure and something more--a sense
of disquieting intimacy. While intruding upon your reserve with his
solemn, stark and almost hostile novelty, he makes at the same time a
strange appeal--he touches upon chords in our nature of which we
ourselves were barely cognisant.
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