rt Statuaire_, new edition, 1863, p. 42.)

At the end of classic antiquity, probably in the fifth century,
Aristaenetus in his first Epistle thus described his mistress
Lais: "Her cheeks are white, but mixed in imitation of the
splendor of the rose; her lips are thin, by a narrow space
separated from the cheeks, but more red; her eyebrows are black
and divided in the middle; the nose straight and proportioned to
the thin lips; the eyes large and bright, with very black pupils,
surrounded by the clearest white, each color more brilliant by
contrast. Her hair is naturally curled, and, as Homer's saying
is, like the hyacinth. The neck is white and proportioned to the
face, and though unadorned more conspicuous by its delicacy; but
a necklace of gems encircles it, on which her name is written in
jewels. She is tall and elegantly dressed in garments fitted to
her body and limbs. When dressed her appearance is beautiful;
when undressed she is all beauty. Her walk is composed and slow;
she looks like a cypress or a palm stirred by the wind. I cannot
describe how the swelling, symmetrical breasts raise the
constraining vest, nor how delicate and supple her limbs are. And
when she speaks, what sweetness in her discourse!"

Renier has studied the feminine ideal of the Provencal poets, the
troubadours who used the "langue d'oc." "They avoid any
description of the feminine type. The indications refer in great
part to the slender, erect, fresh appearance of the body, and to
the white and rosy coloring. After the person generally, the eyes
receive most praise; they are sweet, amorous, clear, smiling, and
bright. The color is never mentioned. The mouth is laughing, and
vermilion, and, smiling sweetly, it reveals the white teeth and
calls for the delights of the kiss. The face is clear and fresh,
the hand white and the hair constantly blonde. The troubadours
seldom speak of the rest of the body. Peire Vidal is an
exception, and his reference to the well-raised breasts may be
placed beside a reference by Bertran de Born. The general
impression conveyed by the love lyrics of the langue d'oc is one
of great convention. There seemed to be no salvation outside
certain phrases and epithets. The woman of Provence, sung by
hundreds of poets, seems to have been composed all of milk and
roses, a bl