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This all sounds potentially bizarre and frightening, but Peter Luke and the director Jean Gascon have somehow drained the neurotic fire from Rolfe's dream and made his bitterness seem laughable. When we return to reality at the end of the play (the paper-mache reality of Rolfe's Cheapside flat), the play drops to the maudlin level which characterized its beginning. Like Dorothy awakening from her dream, we are reassured that all has been in fun. One more genius manque has bitten the dust...

Author: By James M. Lewis, | Title: The Theatregoer Hadrian VII at the Colonial Theatre until April 25 | 4/10/1970 | See Source »

Traditionalists were planning stopovers at the Musée Ingres in the Gascon town of Montauban, or the Musée Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec in Albi...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Museums: Filigrees & Forgings | 6/16/1967 | See Source »

Ingres (pronounced like angry with the y cut off) traveled the road of the masters almost from his childhood in the Gascon town of Montauban. At nine he was already turning out drawings of astonishing maturity, and in 1797, when he was 17, he joined the Paris studio of the great classicist Jacques Louis David. But while David's figures remained solid and heroic, those of Ingres soon became pliant and touched with elegance. David took his inspiration from ancient Rome, and painted frequently from Roman statues. Ingres was struck by the Italian Renaissance primitives, by early Greek...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Art: The Road of Raphael | 4/7/1961 | See Source »

Becket lived high, but only, Biographer Duggan maintains, to uphold his position. He sipped water flavored with lime blossoms while his guests downed Gascon wine. When Henry picked Becket to be Archbishop of Canterbury-largely to get control of the church and church funds-Thomas accepted reluctantly. "The love you now feel for me," he said prophetically, "will turn to bitter hate...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Books: Self-Made Martyr | 10/10/1955 | See Source »

...Gascon, though some say of Norman descent, When starved till faint gazed up at a trellis to which grapes were tied- Matured till they glowed with a purplish tint As though there were gems inside. Now grapes were what our adventurer on strained haunches chanced to crave, But because he could not reach the vine He said, "These grapes are sour, I'll leave them for some knave." Better, I think, than an embittered whine...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Books: New Shine on Old Truths | 5/24/1954 | See Source »

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