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Updated: May 12, 2025
Diderot, again, in every page of his work, whether he is discussing painting, manners, science, the drama, poetry, or philosophy, abounds and overabounds in those details, particularities, and special marks of the individual, which are, as M. Taine rightly says, alien to the classic genius.
You will go to your quarters, under arrest! Mr. Baird, burn him down if he hesitates!" Then there was a rushing, and scrambling figures appeared and were all about. They were members of the Niccola's crew, sent by the skipper. They regarded the Plumie with detachment, but Taine with a wary expectancy. Taine turned purple with fury. He shouted. He raged.
"Oh," said About, "I stumbled across a wine-dealer who wanted a first-class advertisement done in the highest style of art, so I sat down and wrote it for him, and he gave me fifty francs and this wine." "But the organ-grinder?" pursued Taine. "Heavens!" exclaimed his friend, "you don't think one can enjoy a banquet without music, do you?
Likewise, we are in that period of social life which Bagehot calls "the age of discussion," and already we can see what Zola has called, in Germinal, the cracking of the politico-social crust, and, in fact, all those symptoms which Taine has described in his l'Ancien Régime, in relating the history of the twenty years which preceded 1789.
The artist is no longer a slavish copyist of others. "Cimabue" says M. Taine, "already belongs to the new order of things; for he invents and expresses."
There are social phenomena that need to be studied far more from the point of view of the psychologist than from that of the naturalist. The great historian Taine has only studied the Revolution as a naturalist, and on this account the real genesis of events has often escaped him.
Greta Du Taine had had another love-letter! The news darted from class-room to class-room more quickly than little Monsieur Pilotell, the French literature professor; it spread like the measles, and magnified like the mumps.
As for you, Greta Du Taine, who are always bragging about your father and his money, tell me which three letters of the alphabet you would find tattooed upon his conscience if the strongest microscope ever made could find his conscience out? Shall I tell you them?" She held up her finger.
Taine and Louise. But all the while that Conrad Lagrange was talking to the man, and leading him toward the door of the studio, he was wondering why that look of fear upon the face of the girl in the garden? What had Sibyl Andrés to do with James Rutlidge? A Cry in the Night As Conrad Lagrange and Mr.
"Don't worry madam he's just as much a fool as the rest of us." As the novelist spoke, they heard the voices of Miss Taine and her escort, James Rutlidge. Mrs. Taine had only time to shake a finger in playful warning at her companion, and to whisper, "Mind you bring your artist to me, or I'll get him when you're not looking; and listen, don't tell Jim about him; I must see what he is like, first."
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