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Cezanne's sublimation produces not flesh but a kind of architecture. Yet this architecture is incontrovertible. Its scale is increased by the overarching trees, which supply a Gothic vault, and by the high, cloud-laden sky. And the final effect is one of exhilaration at the sight of the old man in his last year of life winning from his turmoil an equilibrium that was truly classical, and yet hiding so little of the inner compulsions that drove its making.