Description
Émile-Antoine BOURDELLE (1861-1929). Autograph manuscript signed. To Anatole France, October 15, 1924; 6 pages in-4. Tribute to Anatole France, who died on October 12. The manuscript was used for publication.Bourdelle's first contact with France's work was when he read Sylvestre Bonnard's Crime: "It was an immense encounter for me. I found there as many friendships as pages. [...] in those pages were grouped the light, the purity, the order, the spirit with grace, the heart and soul of France". Much later, he went to Villa Saïd to present a work in which Anatole France immediately recognized Moréas' Iphigénie "standing, veiled, arms raised, one shading the face with folds of clothing, the other pressing the bust". Bourdelle was astonished, but he didn't really know the Master until much later, at the home of his brother- and sister-in-law Couchoud. Then came "the great adventure of creating his bust". After long posing sessions, his drawings "surprised him profoundly, then came the slow study in clay, a study that changed every day. The Master took a great part in the work: he would say to me "But you go from certainty to certainty!" Alas, yes, certainties, Master. But certainties of error. Seeing my mistakes is my strength, Master. It's from recognized errors that the path to truth is made; my strength is in knowing when I've made a mistake. [...] And one morning I was deeply moved: France, laying his arm affectionately on my shoulder: "What a labour Bourdelle," he said, "what skeletal constructions! What attention given to the figures of the volumes! What interior Architecture. I understand more and more this hatred of virtuosos. Through you, I penetrate sculpture". One morning, France showed him one of her books, the pages of which were "loaded, crossed out, all chopped up with pencil notes. And then, leaning his tall stature towards me: "Only fools can find themselves perfect," he said. What kindness in Anatole France! What simplicity! What affectionate gentleness! What a high soldier for every just cause." He concludes: "They say the great sage is dead. But we know his eternal work. His high Spirit hovers and shines. [...] The torches of admiration and those of friendship in our aching hearts burn together overturned".
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Émile-Antoine BOURDELLE (1861-1929). Autograph manuscript signed. To Anatole France, October 15, 1924; 6 pages in-4. Tribute to Anatole France, who died on October 12. The manuscript was used for publication.Bourdelle's first contact with France's work was when he read Sylvestre Bonnard's Crime: "It was an immense encounter for me. I found there as many friendships as pages. [...] in those pages were grouped the light, the purity, the order, the spirit with grace, the heart and soul of France". Much later, he went to Villa Saïd to present a work in which Anatole France immediately recognized Moréas' Iphigénie "standing, veiled, arms raised, one shading the face with folds of clothing, the other pressing the bust". Bourdelle was astonished, but he didn't really know the Master until much later, at the home of his brother- and sister-in-law Couchoud. Then came "the great adventure of creating his bust". After long posing sessions, his drawings "surprised him profoundly, then came the slow study in clay, a study that changed every day. The Master took a great part in the work: he would say to me "But you go from certainty to certainty!" Alas, yes, certainties, Master. But certainties of error. Seeing my mistakes is my strength, Master. It's from recognized errors that the path to truth is made; my strength is in knowing when I've made a mistake. [...] And one morning I was deeply moved: France, laying his arm affectionately on my shoulder: "What a labour Bourdelle," he said, "what skeletal constructions! What attention given to the figures of the volumes! What interior Architecture. I understand more and more this hatred of virtuosos. Through you, I penetrate sculpture". One morning, France showed him one of her books, the pages of which were "loaded, crossed out, all chopped up with pencil notes. And then, leaning his tall stature towards me: "Only fools can find themselves perfect," he said. What kindness in Anatole France! What simplicity! What affectionate gentleness! What a high soldier for every just cause." He concludes: "They say the great sage is dead. But we know his eternal work. His high Spirit hovers and shines. [...] The torches of admiration and those of friendship in our aching hearts burn together overturned".
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