NB B M 5<)a 7A1 TALKS ON SCULPTURE BY- LORADO TAFT Published by P. P. CAPRONI & BRO.. Boston 1906 Wrp Copyright. 1907 By P. P. Caproni & Bro., Boston All rights reserved THE BARTA PRESS. BOSTON Introduction SCHOOLROOM decoration — the creation of a beautiful environment which will silently cooperate with the voice of the teacher in the mental, icsthetic and spiritual development of the children — is a movement of ever-increasing importance, and one to which Miss Gertrude L. Brinkhaus has given her attention since the beginning of the year one thousand nine hundred five. At the close of the Louisiana Purchase Exposition, where Miss Brinkhaus served as assistant director for the Massachusetts Educational Exhibits, she found herself possessed with the idea of helping along schools and teachers toward the attainment of schoolroom decoration by presenting to them the beautiful in sculpture — the masterpieces of the world. It was one thing to wish to do and another to hit upon a plan of doing, but suddenly there came to her the thought that newspapers must give collections of sculpture and that the schools to receive the gifts should be decided upon by means of a voting con- test. The publisher of the Boston Herald was first approached, and the plan met with his hearty approval and support. An interesting contest was the result. Next, the originator was invited to Washington, D. C, by the Evening Siar^ and in June of this year closed a period of work, decorating some of the schools of Chicago through the Chicago Record- Heraid. Through the generosity of the Times-Dispatch, the end of this year will see many schools in Richmond, Va., beautified by this same plan, under Miss Brinkhaus's personal direction. In pursuing her work. Miss Brinkhaus has always used sculpture, not because she does not believe in pictures, but because she believes in teaching the child the beautiful in form. Commenting on the plan, one of the members of the Chicago Board of Education, a lady who had made a special study of art in the best schools of Europe, said: **The presence and the study of sculpture in the schools, not only develops the artistic sense of the pupils and refines their ideals and instmcts, but also has a power to impart psychologic insight. When I was in the Paris schools, we were impressed with the fact that the expression of character was the first and most important thing in the study of sculpture. In gazing on the outlines of the sculptured face the young child gradually grows into an understanding of the emotions which are there given form, and thus learns a valuable lesson in the reading of human character." The following is an abstract from a letter received by the Chicago Record- Herald from a well-known person in Chicago. •* Aside from the great historical value, there is another value still greater — those weary, overworked young minds, taxed to their very utmost in the com- prehension of dull studies (for many seem dull to the struggling young mind) all rise as though one, and with an actual cry of joy, seize a study they can grasp, for its beauty has entered through their eyesight, and not through weary words coming to tired brains. And its mission will be proven in the child's later work. At last they know why many studies must be mastered if they ever are to be proficient in one. The child who has grasped the mathematics and grammar of art can never degenerate from the principles of truth and sincerity in his own life's work, no matter what work it is." In connection with the many weeks of work in Chicago, Miss Brinkhaus had the good fortune to persuade Lorado Taft, Chicago's most distinguished sculp- tor, to write a series of articles on sculpture. He was asked to write them in a way interesting for children, not above their heads, and yet old enough for the "grown-ups." Mr. Taft was given a list of fifty 6r more subjects of the casts given by the Chicago Record-Herald to the schools of Chicago. Pressure of work did not permit him to write more than twenty-five articles, and these appeared from time to time in the Chicago Record- Herald, earning the well-deserved praise of old and young. So clever and interesting were the "Talks on Sculpture," that it became the ambition of Miss Brinkhaus to publish them in pamphlet form in order that they might be distributed among the teachers of the country. The articles are here reproduced by permission of the Chicago Record-Herald, and the subjects touched upon are among those given by that paper to the schools of Chicago. As the casts were furnished by the firm of P. P. Caproni and Brother, they take pleasure in publishing this little pamphlet, which contains also a few illus- trations of well-decorated schoolrooms. P. P. CAPRONI & BRO. Boston 1906 A catalogue, illustrating over one thousand subjects of sculpture, will be sent on receipt of twenty-five cents. Any information to prospective purchasers will be gladly furnished. [4] UNIVE Of HAVE you ever seen the little wooden "Schoolmaster," as we shall call him, in an Art Institute? Well, now, he is worth going to see. To be sure, he is in no sense a novelty, having first seen light some five thousand years ago, and while we are at it we may as well confess also that he is neither a schoolmaster nor of wood. He is only a plaster cast, made from the wooden original and colored to look like it ; a little, fat man, with plump face and holding a stick in his right hand. It is this latter feature which has given him the pet name of " The Schoolmaster." His costume is rather old- fashioned, and not very elaborate, but that moon-face of his is all right. The most skil- ful sculptors of later times could hardly have made a more speaking likeness. The queer thing about it is that this little figure is not only so good in workmanship, but it is just about the earliest Egyptian sculpture that we know. It looks as if they began pretty near the top, those old pyramid-builders and mummy-makers, and then spent a few thou- sand years in forgetting how ! Sober second thought will convince us, however, that the Egyptians must have carved many a figure before they learned to do as truthful work as this, and further inves- tigation will show us that they produced many other interesting sculptures, even in their later periods. I shall not ask you to admire cat-headed figures of women, nor stifF-limbed men with eagles' or hawks' heads on them. There are thousands of these grotesque crea- tures which symbolized purity and strength and all sorts of virtues to the Egyptians, but which mean little enough to us. We hurry by them in the museums, and feel much more at home with the mummies. But some of those strange sculptures must have been tremen- dously impressive in the twilight of the old temples. Possibly anything more realistic would have been far less effective. The very rigidity of the poses of gigantic statues like columns one after another, dimly outlined, the square-bent knees of seated figures, seated for all time and looking into endless space — do you know, those dream-creations of the mi.sty past become fascinating as you study them in their proper environment ! They have a mighty appeal ; they fairly hypno- tize you. Did any man ever stand in the presence of the great sphinx and escape its spell ? You feel with Napoleon that the cen- turies are there looking down upon you and — sizing you up. The sphinx was famed in old-time legends for its annoying questions. It added to its riddles as th^ years went by until to-day its very significance is mystery. We shall never know what the serene-faced monsiter meant to the men who created it. We only know that they repeated it over and over with a devotion which seems to us worthy of a bet- ter cause. In times of activity, in times of depression, they made sphinxes; when in doubt they made more sphinxes. On the site of ancient Thebes there is a royal high- way about a mile and a half long, extending from the temple of Karnak to that of Luxor. On either side of the road at intervals of about fourteen feet are stone sphinxes as big The Sphinx as horses ; it is estimated that there were about one thousand of them. The body was always that of a lion, but the heads in this case were those of rams. Just why this inno- vation was made is quite as mysterious as why the sphinx at all. but we are glad that it was not generally adopted. The sphinx with the woman's head is much better suited to our modern taste. It is a surpri.se, however, to discover what a personal appealing counte- nance the Egyptians .sometimes gave even to these symbolistic sculptures. The face shown in our illustration is as sweet and full of life as that of any rosy-cheeked .schoolgirl of to-day. With its piquant nose, its smiling lips, and the little touch of pathos in the eye- brows, it oflfers as charming an expres.sion as one could wi.sh. It would be interesting to change the attire and see if she would not make a nice American girl. But whether it be veiled with the sacred head-dress of Ej^ypt or crowned by a modern "Tarn," there is in every smiling woman's face a glimjwe of the eternal mystery of life ; a hint of the riddle of the sphinx. [5] 11. IT is a journey of many thousand miles from our country to the sites of old-time Baby- lon and Nineveh. Many weary years have been spun from the distaff of Time since those ' ' exceeding great cities ' ' battled with one another and took turns in ruling the world of men. Greater, however, than the space which separates them from our much-alive land is the difference between the two civilizations which they represent. On the globe we are some degrees from Nineveh, but we are quite at the antipodes as far as life and thought are concerned. It seems as if we could have noth- ing in common with that proud, cruel, con- quering race. However, better acquaintance brings people together. Some one has writ- ten, "To know is to understand," and an- other kindly soul has said, ' ' You cannot hate a man when you know him well." So it may be that even the old-time Assyrians are worthy of our attention. They were not so very differ- It was in the year 668 b. c. that the King Assur-bani-pal, the grandson of old Sennache- rib, came to the throne and at once set his thousands of masons and artisans to building the grand new palace which was to mark his glorious reign. Quite unconscious and un- warned that his family was soon to be de- throned and that his great city was doomed to become the prey of a new Babylon, he urged his architects to design him a house that should rival in extent and splendor all the costly palaces that his ancestors had scat- tered over the country. Especially must these new halls be made magnificent with endless sculptures telling the story of the king's mighty achievements. They were to form an epic poem celebrating the glories and prowess of the monarch builder, a poem that might be added to as the \ears went by. We know that the reliefs in the palace which King Sargon built fifty years Assyrian Lion Hunt ent, after all, from the ancient Jews, whose history we study so carefully. The children of Israel have sent us a message through their noble literature, their songs and proverbs and prophesies. Let us allow the Assyrians to tell us something of themselves through their .sculptures, which record many a tale of prowess. It was the ambition of every Oriental king to build at least one great palace, which should be both a home and a monument to his fame. The walls of these enormous structures of sun-dried bricks were covered with reliefs marvelously carved in alabaster. The As- syrians had no quarries of marble and their statues were few, but thin .slabs of alabaster were to be had in abundance, and so this art of low-relief was much practised. For two centuries or more the .sculptors of Nineveh had been learning how to do it. Their figures of men were never first class. They always showed them well wrapped in heavy draperies with much fringe and embroidery, all carved with greatest care, but they seemed to take especial delight in chiseling fiery horses and ferocious lions. earlier made a frieze a mile and a half long. It is from this picture-story, this carved his- tory, that our illustration is selected. King Assur-bani-pal evidently enjoyed hunt- ing as much as does President Roosevelt, and while he wrote no books upon the subject he evidently charged the court sculptor to give the sport full place upon the palace walls. And you may be sure that the .sculptor was not slow to do so. He was tired of carving gar- dens and banquets and armies and prisoners ; here was something that he could do with enthusiasm. What power and "go" he has put into tho.se horses ! What vigor in those springing lions ! There are animals among these hunting scenes that have never been surpassed by .sculptors of any age or country ; a dying lioness pierced with several arrows, a num- ber of dogs in leash tugging with all their might, and some horses' heads, which though half-hidden with trappings seem fairly to breathe fire from their distended nostrils. These are Assyria's great contribution to the world's treasures of sculpture. [6] m. IT was in the very busy city of Athens and the clock of ages had just struck 450 b. c. — only nobody knew that it was ** b. c." nor heard the strokes — when the leading citi- zens got together and decided that it was high time something should be done about that long-promised temple to Athena on the Acrop- olis. Thirty years had passed since the Per- sians, well-whipi)ed, had taken their broken- winged flight homeward, and for thirty years the blackened ruins of Athena's old temple had stood there ui>on the great rock far above the city, a monument to the horrors of those barbaric invasions ; an appeal for new acts of patriotism. The well-beloved goddess had by no means been forgotten, Phidias, the sculp- And now they are gathered together to plan their masterpiece. The "great walls" are finished ; the defen.ses of Athens are complete. Pericles, the clear-headed, far-seeing leader, feels that the time is riije to make their dear city a worthy capital of the new state which he is developing. He is ready at last for the undertaking which they have so often di.s- cussed — the crowning of the sacred Acropolis with a temple and approaches befitting the dignity of their patron saint, the glorious, blue-eyed, warrior-maid whose protecting shield had guarded Athens so well. Three years were to pass before the actual building should begin, but those were busy, happy years for '* Ictinos & Kallicrales, archi- Portion of the Western Frieze of Parthenon tor, had already erected to her honor a mighty statue which towered above those ruins and could be seen by home-faring mariners far out on the blue .^gean, but her house was still lacking. The heroes of the Marathon and Salamis were mostly gone and a new generation of Athenians trod the winding streets of the rebuilt city. The.se men of Athens in their beautiful, picturesque garments were differ- ent from those of all other lands. They com- bined in their make-up the dignity of the Orientals with an animation like that of the modern Frenchmen, and they were the most brilliant and artistic people that the world had ever seen. The beautiful things which they created at this period are the treasures of civilization ; the heritage of all who enjoy gjeat literature and great art. tects," and for Phidias, who was to look after all the sculptural decorations of the edifice, besides creating another giant .statue of Athena to be placed within the temple. This figure was to be no less than thirty-eight feet high, and of gold and ivory, as rich and magnificent as pos.sible. That Phidias was the man to do it was certain, for he had already made a simi- lar colossus for the temple at Olympia, a won- derful seated figure of Zeus that was fameer world of sunlight. With exultant heart, the happy man retraced his groping way until suspicions seized him. Could it be that this silent shadow which followed him so closely was in truth his beloved Eurydice ? Or was he being tricked by the powers of dark- ness? Just as they emerged into the light his resolution forsook him. He turned, and — she was gone. Hermes, the messenger god, had once more laid his inexorable hand upon her. The sculptor of this beautiful relief is un- known, but as the style is that of the Parthe- non frieze, we may believe him to have been of the time of Phidias, or a little later. That he was a true artist and a master of the diffi- cult problems of low-relief is proved by this one work. It is worth living to have done a .single thing as perfect a.s this. With true poetic in.stinct, the artist has allowed the fond lovers a moment of parting, while Hermes waits patiently and sympathetically. But no- tice that in this sui)reme moment there are no hysterics ; no paroxysms of grief. There is dignity in all Greek .sculpture of this period. "In all things avoid the too -? V Orpheus. Eurydice. and Hermes much ' ' was their motto, and their art was great becau.se of this moderation. It is so easy to overdo the dramatic — as in later periods of art when the emotions became grotesque — but even the great tombstones are masterpieces of dignity and reserve. Our ancestors u.sed to festoon their monuments with sculptured skulls and crossbones, and fairly reveled in the horrors of death and de- cay. The Greeks marked their graves with gentle farewells like this, or pictured family gatherings where the loved one is shown pre- paring for a journey. The very self-control of these touching tributes grips fast the heart. [in VIII. PHIDIAS and Polycleitos, the great sculp- tors of the fifth century b. c, were suc- r^^_— ceeded by Praxiteles and Skopas. The growing tendency toward refinement and per- fection of skill is illustrated in their work. Praxiteles chooses subjects very different from those which delighted Phidias. The days of monumental grandeur are past. The later man represents the gods, to be sure, but he selects the subordinate, more human divin- ities, and pictures them with a less reverent touch. Hermes of Praxiteles There is an air of easy familiarity in his approach. His first object seems to be the expression of geniality and grace. Only one original from his hand remains, but we trace his style in many copies and adaptations. We know that he was celebrated for his statues of Aphrodite (Venus) and Eros (Cupid). Indeed, it has been said of him that ' ' when- ever he put his chisel to the stone the little god of love was peeping over his shoulder." Pau.sanias, who traveled in Greece in the second century a. d., tells us that he saw in the Hera Temple at Olympia ' ' a Hermes of stone carrying the young Dionysos ; it was made by Praxiteles." In 1877 a party of German archaeologists made a careful surve}^ and did much excavating at Olympia. They revealed the foundations of the two principal temples, but found few remains of value. The sacred city had too long been a shining mark for the Roman robbers. The students were preparing to leave, somewhat disappointed at their small harvest, when one of the number pro- posed to turn a few more shovels of dirt within the inclosure of the Hera Temple. Scarcely had they begun when the spade struck a stone which soon proved to be a statue. And such a statue ! With the great- est care it was freed from the soil which had been its bed and protection through so many centuries, and gradually its beautiful form emerged to the daylight. No doubt these happy scholars were familiar with the passage in Pausanias, and recognized the figure at once, though it must have seemed too good to be true. At any rate, they appreciated the noble workmanship of the figure — there is nothing finer in existence — and we can imagine that there was a great deal of excited German spoken around there that May after- noon. The legs and arms were broken, but the body and head were intact, and here at last was a Greek statue with its nose in good order. As fortune would have it, they even found the baby Dionysos later, used as a stone in the building of a wall. Thus the Hermes stands to-day almost complete in the little museum of Olympia. He leans comfortably upon a high stump over which he has thrown his mantle, and seems to be looking with gentle, dreamy eyes at the funny baby perched upon his left arm. The grace of the pose, the firm yet softly rounded forms, the combination of strength and gentleness so well shown in both the subject and the treatment, were a new revelation to the world. Here at last was an original directly from the hands of the great master. It was as fine as men had dreamed. If this was one of the minor works of Praxi- teles, what must have been the beauty of his more celebrated achievements. [12] IX. IT is our misfortune that we know Greek sculpture mostly through Roman copies. Some of these copies are good and some are very poor, while often the original has served merely as a theme or text for the later sculptor. The dainty little figure which we show here seems beautiful enough to be an original, but it is probably a clever copy of a still finer work. Some think that the original must have been from the hand of Praxiteles, so g^raceful is its pose and so sweet its ex- pression. The young lady is known as the Artemis (or Diana) of Gabii, from the place where she was unearthed in the fateful year of 1792. She stands now in the Museum of the Louvre in Paris, one of the most charming works in all that vast collection. As a rule, Greek statues are very imper- sonal ; their beauty seems "typical" rather than individual ; one does not think of them as real people. But here is a marble girl that one could easily fall in love with — as many an art student has done in the past and many another will in the future until the end of time. One of these enthusiastic admirers de- scribes her as follows : " Nothing could be more graceful than her simple, easy pose, the attitude of a maiden goddess finishing her toilet. Her head, turned to the right, is carved with inimitable refine- ment. The delicate, half-parted lips recall the praises which the ancients lavi-shly be- stowed on the statues of Artemis by Praxi- teles. With exquisite feeling the artist has enlivened his composition by well-chosen bits of contrast. On one side one sees the rounded contours of the raised arm, the .shoulder hid- den by the drapery, the straight folds of the belted garment, and the leg which supports the weight of the body. On the other .side the shoulder is bare, the arm is pressed against the breast, the heavy folds of the cloak de- scend to below the knee, and the left leg is bent and set back. The subtlety of pose and movement, combined with the beautiful con- ception and perfect execution, make of the statue a work of supreme charm and dignity.'* It is a pleasure to realize that there were women in those days beautiful enough to in- spire such works, and men with skill to carve them. I do not suppose that the sculptor was thinking particularly of us when he made this delightful figure, but we have inherited the wealth of the past, and I, for one, am grateful to the unknown artist. The school that has the girlish ** Diana at Toilet " has " a thing of beauty and a joy forever." This .suggests another thought : If we enjoy .so much the beautiful things created in the olden time, how much more ought we to do for those coming after us. We consider our- .selves the most civilized nation that ever lived. We boast of our freedom and of our education, of our wealth and of our opportunities. I Diana Robing From Gabii wonder what they will say of us, a hundred or a thoasand years from now! Will they be grateful to us for ideals of beauty expressed in music and poetry, in painting and .sculp- ture? Will they say, ** What a happy, refined people they must have been ; how they must have enjoyed creating these rare things, and how fortunate we are to ' enter into their labors'!" Or will they say of us, "They were a sordid race, caring only for the * al- mighty dollar ' *^ ? Let us learn something from the Greeks ! [13] X. ATHENA, who later was called Minerva, was the goddess of education as well as of various industries, and no presence could be more appropriate within the walls of a schoolroom. Of all the statues of this splendid patron of learning, the one which we picture here is the general favorite. This Minerva Giustinismi stately figure is called the Athena, or Minerva Giustiniani, after the Italian family which rejoiced in its possession for many years. However, it has been counted among the treasures of the Vatican for nearly or quite a century. Even the wisest of the critics are uncertain as to when the statue was made. It has all the dignity of the earlier period of Greek sculpture, but is quite different from the descriptions left us of the Athena of the Par- thenon. Among those other ' ' industries ' ' referred to was the business of fighting, to which Athena was not at all averse. She is described by Homer as taking part in many a battle, and there are numerous sculptures which show her in the thick of the combat. In this statue she is shown with her helmet — which could be pulled down over her face — her breastplate of mail bearing the dreadful head of Medusa, and her formidable spear. That pet snake of hers also looks fairly belligerent. In other respects, however, the blue-eyed goddess, wrapped in her beautiful drapery, seems as peaceful and quiet as you please — a fine type of the watchful, helpful school-mistress. It is no wonder that the Athenians loved her de- votedly ; she embodied their highest ideals. The voracious Romans in their eagerness to conquer the whole world became very "lib- eral ' ' in religious matters. In fact, we might call them omnivorous, for they swallowed not only the nations of the earth, but their gods as well ! There was room in the Roman Panth- eon for them all. I imagine that with some of those queer Eastern deities the adoption was rather perfunctory. Probably Baal and Ptah and a host more of the shadowy creations of the Orient never came to feel very much at home in the imperial city, but the Greek gods were greatly honored there, and under new names became the favorites of the Romans. Some, to be sure, fell to pretty low estate, and the gossip that the Roman poets wove about them would have scandalized the early pious Greeks. But Minerva, though no longer possessing the personality and significance which the Athenians had attributed to her, continued to claim the intellectual life and the protection of the fine arts, so that she is- still used in poetry as a symbol for these things, just as you will see her pictured in decorative paint- ings and sculptures, with the same significance. Another of Athena's names was Pallas. Do you remember how in ' ' The Raven ' ' the bird of evil omen perched upon the bust of Pallas "o'er my chamber door"? I have always imagined the bust of Pallas the particular head shown in our illustration, and Poe's weird verses made such an impression upon my youthful mind that I never see the head and its protecting helmet with the peek-hole eyes but I imagine that great black bird perched upon it croaking ' ' Nevermore ' ' at the end of each verse. [U] XI. THE ^\Tite^ is often asked which statues of antiquity he most admires. Amonjj the female figures it is hard to make ab- solute choice, but we mav ifroup tojjether the three "Fates" of the Parthenon, the V'enus of Milo and the Winged Victor v. My prefer- ence among these glorious works is the one at which I happen to be looking. Since we have the picture of the Victory before us, we may call it, for the present, the most beautiful of all the ancient sculptures. As with the radiant Venus of not even know its maker's name, like Venus, it was found upon small islands of the ^gean Sea Milo, we do And, again one of the in this case, the Island of Samothrace, just off the coast of Demetrius Poliorcetes and that in the vear 306 B. c. he engaged in a great naval battle with an Egyptian fleet. Fortunately for uh and for the .schools, he was victorious, and iwnt the foreign invader about Ma buNiness. Deme- trius became King of Macedonia, and, as waa the custom of his time and country, provided a votive offering to be erected in the sacred Island of Samothrace. His very appropriate choice was this splendid statue of Victory. A coin of his reign shows the very figure upon the prow of a vessel, unth wings extended and trumpet in hand. Unfortunately the arms, the trumpet and even the head are lost, but the .statue is still triumphant. You can imagine the illusion of the plung- Winged Victory Thrace. Here it was discovered in 1863 by a Frenchman, who had it transported at once to Paris. It is now one of the greate.st treasures of the LouvTe, where it is admirably placed at the head of a great stairway. Poi.sed there upon its original pedestal, a stone prow of a vessel, it seems to float in the air. Few statues ap- peal so strongly to one's imagination ; it makes the old heroic days real once more. It may be of interest to know that when it was found the figure and wings were in one hundred and eighteen pieces, all of which had, of course, to be carefully fitted and fastened together. Although we do not know who made this glorious Nike, we are fortunate in being able to learn something about her. We read that soon after the death of Alexander there was in Macedonia a certain powerful general named ing ves.sel with this sui)erb creature lightly poised upon its prow. There is rush and impetuosity in her every line. The eye wan- ders with delight over the sweeping folds of the flying drapery, following them around the graceful figure. Behind, the garment is blown out into great fluttering masses of singular beauty and variety. There is everj-where that indescribable i)lay of light and shade which sculptors persist in calling "color" — yet it is without harshness or monotony. Over the bosom and waist the drapery is thin and pre.s.sed close to the body, allowing the noble form to show through. No feeble little sister she, sje him into a Homer, even in a hundred years. He was destined to win fame in another fashion, but he won it, and his name will always be re- membered. "Young Augustus" was the nephew, you will remember, of the great Julius Caesar, and, although his uncle refused the crown, the nephew had no such scruples, and became the first emperor of the Romans. Born in 63 b. c, he died — as .some time or other even emperors must — in 14 a. d., which means, of course, that he was on the throne when Christ was born in that little town of one of Rome's faraway Eastern provinces. Of course, the mighty emperor never knew of this greatest event of his reign. It was a glorious period in Roman life. Augustus used to boast that he found Rome a city of bricks and left it a city of marble, and this was hardly an exaggeration. His reign was, indeed, the most artistic, if not the most luxurious, one in all the long annals of the Eternal City. The Romans did not care much at first for the fine arts ; they said that it was their business to conquer nations and to rule the world, not to paint pictures and to whittle statues. But after a while they had a taste of the beauties of Greek art, and soon they could not get enough of it. Every returning general would bring back a shipload of statues to grace his triumph. Imagine how impressive those beautiful fig- ures of marble and bronze must have been in . the procession, each riding in his chariot like noble, silent prisoners torn from their beloved homeland. Later the Romans imported Greek sculptors and artisans to make more statues, until finally the population of bronze and stone men in the capital was greater than the num- ber of living citizens. Especially did they like portraits. Busts of ' ' grandpa ' ' and ' * grandma ' ' were as es- sential to light hou.sekeeping as a range and an ice box in a modern flat. What a job it must have been on " moving day " if one had a hundred or more stone ancestors to cart about ! Augustus, who did so much to encourage the arts, was rewarded by being able to leave behind him some of the finest portraits that w^ere ever bequeathed to the world. This bust is one of them, and enjoys great fame ; everybody knows the '* Vountf AugtuttUH " of the Vatican. There are two others, Htatuett, which are magnificent thintj^. One in Au- gustus as commander of the troops, in full armor. He stands with an arm outstretched. as if giving an order ; not shouting, but speak- ing quietly like a man who ex|)ectM to be obeyed. The other figure seems to me even more beautiful. It is a cast of the famous one in the Louvre in Paris ; the emjieror as a senator, perhaps, wrapi)ed in his toga and preimrcd to make a speech. IL has a noble dignity, which is about the finest thing poK.sible in sculpture. Young Augofltw One does not appreciate it all at once, but if you will sit down before this figure for five minutes and let it talk to you, you will never forget it. It may talk Latin, but you will understand. Although these .statues show the emperor in the prime of life, there is no difficulty in recognizing the face as the same which wa.s once that of the "Young Augustus." The head is intellectual, the features clean-cut and aristotTatic. but not haughty. Augustus was evidently of the nobility — past or future — and no sculptor ever had a finer .subject. The earnest, thoughtful face Is that of a diligent student, and we know that he prejiareeriod of nearly a thousand years, during which noth- ing of beauty and little of interest was pro- duced. Toward the end of the thirteenth century there were signs of an awakening in Italy, and during the next century much progress was made, especially in church deco- ration. In the year 1386 was born in Florence a future sculptor whose influence was to be very great and whose skill we admire to-day as much as it was praised in his own time. He had a long name, but, like his own friends. we call him Donatello " for short." Talent seems to be no resijecter of families, and we need not be surprised to find the great- est artist of his century born under the humble roof of a woolcomber. Such was the home of Donatello. We know little of his childhood, but one date is well recorded ; in 1402, when little Donatello had grown to be a boy of six- teen, there was held in Florence a competition to decide which sculptor should have the honor of making the great bronze door of the baptistery. This was the time when Ghiberti won the day and began that magnificent work of a lifetime which was to make his name im- mortal. Donatello had a friend, young Bru- nellesco, who took part in this competition and was beaten. He was much disappointed, of course, and turned to architecture, in which he was destined to earn a great reputa- tion. Together the two young men took a long journey to Rome, where the wonders of the past made a deep impression upon them. We do not know how long they .stayed there, but there is record that at the age of twenty Donatello received payment for various stat- ues of saints for the decoration of the cathe- dral in his native city. He was thirty years old when he made the remarkable figure which we illustrate here, his famous "St. George." It was not intended for the cathedral, but for a niche on the outside of a small church called Or San Michele. St. George was the patron saint of the armorers, and it was the armor- ers' guild, or union, which ordered the statue and set it up there for the glorification of their good saint and the decoration of their beloved city. In those days every man of Florence felt a pride in her fame and beauty ; each ac- cording to his means contributed toward her further embellishment. Our tourists go there by thou.sands every year to see the churches and monuments erected during that splendid period of public enthusiasm, the wonderful days of the opening renais.sance. Donatello's conception of St. George was a ver>- noble one, and the figure was recog- nized at once as a masterpiece. The soldier- saint is shown in armor, .standing firmly on both feet, which are well apart, and resting his hands upon his great shield. The pose was new for a statue and proves the origi- nality of the artist; there is no gesture, no. movement, only a slight turn of the head, and eyes that i)eer into the distance. The ver\' stillness of the figure makes it Heem alive. If it had been shown making a great eflFort, as striding or brandishing a sword, we should feel at once that it was all " make-believe ** or that he had lx;en paralyzed in that position, but now all is .so impressively cjuiel and tense that one half exjwcts to see him move. It is .said that Michelangelo was so struck with this look of life that when he first .saw the figure he cried out to it, " March." In another way also dies it so well as low, har- monious music. What an appropriate UKe of it we have here, then, where the sculptor is repre.senting his ideal of the sweet patroness of mu.sic. The gentle saint Is shown with her head bowed as if she were seated before her favorite in.strument, her fingers bringing forth celestial strains. There is a Untk of inspira- tion in the face, a breath of ecstasy in the parted, sad-smiling lijw. It is a wonderful thing to express so much in a face ; to create such a precious type ; something to be treas- ured through countless ages. Don't you think it worth while ? Donatello and his colleagues had certain great advantages in their day. There was an enormous demand for their work from all of the churches. And when their statues and reliefs were set in place there was a great and sympathetic public to appreciate them. Nothing develoi^s taste so rapidly as compari- son. You can see that if there was a picture or statue of St. John, for instance, in every <:hurch, and if churches were as numerous and as open as saloons are in .some cities, how soon one would learn which was the most beautiful work. Then the next iminter or sculptor would certainly not copy the ugly one, but would seek his inspiration from the favorite, or else would try to sur|)a.ss it. Thus there was a continual friendly rivalry among the artists, and a pious emulation in the churches as well. Donatello was called ujHin to carve many saints. Possibly you would like his ideal of John the Baptist.' He thought of St. Jobs him always as the wild man of the desert, almost crazed v^-ith his awful responsibility. He shows him shagg>- and haggard in look, with open mouth that cries ever. ** Repent ve ; repent ye." But when he dreams of the beloved di.sciple, how tender is his touch ! The second relief — which is now in the Louvre in Paris — is one of Donatello's rep- resentations of the young St. John. One feels that the sculptor enjoyed doing this head. It has much individuality in it : he knew just what he wished to do, and just how to do it. It is absolutely without weakiu-vs. and yet there is delicacy in every touch. The .schoolroom which has it posses.ses a little gem. [23] XX. ONCE upon a time there was a little boy named Luke who was determined to become a great artist. He had studied in school until he could read and write and do easy " sums," and then he was apprenticed to a goldsmith. While in this employ he learned to model and to draw, and this experience led him to choose sculpture as his profession. He was so ambitious and so in love with the art that he ' ' did nothing but work with his chisel all day, and by night he practiced himself in drawing. ' ' Some boys like to draw, and some Children Playing on Cymbals by Luca Delia Robbia would rather be whipped. Evidently he pre- ferred the former, as the quaint old biographer continues : ' ' This he did with so much zeal that when his feet were frozen with cold he kept them in a basket of shavings to warm them so that he might not be compelled to discontinue his drawings." All of this was a long time ago — some five hundred years indeed, for Luca della Robbia was born in 1400 — and I scarcely need add that his home was in that rare wonder-city of Florence. The boy who sat drawing, with his cold feet in a basket of shavings, was destined to do some beautiful work, which is known and prized everywhere to-day. He took the cheapest and humblest of all materials, ordinary clay, such as they find anywhere in digging wells or cellars, and converted it into exquisite sculpture — sweet- faced madonnas, darling babies and splendid angels. These models he glazed and baked until they were as hard as crockery and as lasting as bronze. The galleries of Europe are full of treasured specimens of ' ' Della Robbia ware, ' ' and one sees its blue and white in many of the churches of Italy. Its beauty and perfection make it as much sought after as marble sculpture. It seems an even more wonderful thing to take mere earth and con- vert it by the magic of genius into something so rare and valuable. Luca worked, however, in other materials as well. He was an expert carver in marble, and made at least one pair of bronze doors. I spoke the other day of a second ' ' singing gal- lery ' ' which faced that one of Donatello in the grand old cathedral of Florence. This was the work of Luca della Robbia, and plenty of time he put upon it ; at least it was begun in 1431 and not erected until 1440. It is the very earliest of his sculpture with which we are acquainted, and we can imagine how eagerly he toiled upon it and how impatiently he waited then for Donatello to get his gal- lery finished so that they might be seen to- gether. No doubt each had his warm friends and each gallery its enthusiastic partisans, and discussions must have run high as to which was the finer work, but we need not choose between them. Both are very beauti- ful, and it is most interesting to see how differ- ently two great masters treat the very same problem. You will remember that Donatello covered his gallery front with a throng of merry danc- ing children. Della Robbia cut his space up into panels ; four in front, one at each end, and then another row of four more on the wall underneath, and these he filled also with children, exquisitively carved in marble. But he had the happy thought to make them illus- trate the fine old psalm about praising the Lord : ' ' Praise Him on the psaltery and the harp," etc. So in each panel he showed a little group playing upon some special instru- ment. A few are dancing, and there are two or three groups which are singing — the most wonderful singers you can imagine — you can almost hear them. These little musicians are among the most popular things ever made by a sculptor. You will find casts of them in every civilized country in the world. Little enough did good Uncle Luca think of Amer- ica when he was carving their pretty faces and graceful limbs ! [24] XXI. LUCA DELLA ROBBIA never married, but was wedded his long life through to his beautiful art. He loved it so much that it is no wonder he succeeded, until finally priests and monks and powerful nobles began to come long distances to get him to do work for them. The demand became .so great that he employed other sculptors to model groups for him, after his designs. But he kept his gjeat secret of the mysterious glaze to himself. He had a young nephew named Andrea, whom he loved very much. Baby Andrea was always welcome in the great shop where Luca and his assistants were very busy modeling angels and saints and holy virgins. Now and then, I fancy, the little fellow was invited to sit very still while they sketched his smiling face and round baby limbs in the plastic clay. Prob- ably not a few of Uncle Luca's pretty babies were portraits of the sturdy little nephew. It must have amused him when he was older to be told that this Christ-child and that young St. John were portraits of his own baby face. But there was something that he liked to do much better than posing — oh, ever so much better ! — and that was to take a handful of soft clay and try to model things for himself. At first the results were rather funny ; the only thing that he could do very well was a little clay nest with a lot of round eggs in it. He kept on trying, however, and one day astonished the whole shopful of .sculptors and apprentices by the beauty of a head which he had made. Then his uncle was delighted, in- deed, and said that he should be his heir and successor, and that when he was old enough he would tell him the secret of the blue and white glaze. Andrea worked on diligently and learned to make groups and reliefs .so perfect in propor- tion and design, .so charming in expre.ssion, that they could not be told from his uncle's best. Then the great secret was confided to him, and he became full partner in the now famous studio. Ever since 1421, the guild of silk workers of Florence had been building an asylum for the foundlings of the city. It was just fifty years later w^hen the Delia Robbias gave the last touch to its decorations. Luca was born, you will remember — most conveniently for our memories — in 1400 ; he was, therefore, just seventy-one years old at the time. He may have superintended the work, but we know that these adorable babies all done up in swaddling clothes were from the hands of Andrea, who wa.s now thirty-four years old. A baby is called a bambino in Italian and if there are two of them they are called bam- bini, but we make our plurals in our own independent American way, and call these charming creatures Delia Robbia bambinos. Anybody who has been abroad will know what that means ; and few can hear the word with- out .smiling, for there is nothing prettier in all Europe than that array of shiny babies hung up on the front of the Spedale dcgli Innocenti, as they call the asylum in their musical language. It is a long porch, or arcade, and over each iK)st, between the arches, is one of these medallions. Each little fellow is more charming than the last ; one runs back and forth trying to make up his mind as to which is his final favorite — just as if he were selecting a real baby from the large household of cherubs within. It is equally hopeless in either case ; Italian babies are so beautiful that one never could decide. Very likely these dear, bright-faced infants, which have reached out their little hands to the pa.s.sers-by and have smiled steadily for wo many' centuries, were ix>rtraits of Andrea's children. It was their turn now. I can imagine the whole family there — Giovanni, Girolamo, Luca, and Ambrosio — all helping, and all of them destined to become sculptors. So for many years they carried on family tra- ditions according to their talent and as the eventful times permitted. But never did they make anything more ap{)ealing, more delight- ful than the bambini ot the foundlings' home. [25] XXII. AMONG other artistic features of the rich fifteenth century were those pretty musi- cal names. Here is a little group of eminent Italian sculptors, all born between 1427 and 1431 : Antonio Rosselino, Desiderio da Settignano, Antonio Pollajuolo, Mino da Fiesole, Andrea Verrochio, and Matteo Civi- tali. Then there was Benedetto da Majano (pronounced Mayano), Agostino Duccio, An- tonio Amadeo and ever so many more. Doesn't it sound just like grand opera? You feel as if such names were made to be sung. But they belonged to real men who were at one time boys and played and sometimes quarreled, who had chapped hands and dirty faces, who suffered from mumps and measles and hard lessons, and rejoiced over holidays and good things to eat quite as heartily as any small Johnny Jones or Patsy Flannigan or Hans Dietrichstein of to-day. Most of them were country boys who grew up in the lovely villages that nestle among Boy by Desiderio da Settignano the hills surrounding Florence. There they saw little of art, but perhaps a visit to the great city, a glimpse of some wonderful statue or painting, had set their young minds on fire. Returning to the quiet village streets and wandering beneath the gray olive trees, they Avere haunted by the great vision until their little poet souls declared themselves ; they, too, would be artists and create works of beauty which men should talk about and revere, even as they had gazed upon Dona- tello's mighty St. George and Orcagna's splendid shrine. They did not always suc- ceed; "many are called, but few are cho.sen." Some had sensible, matter-of-fact fathers who whipped them and sent them to bed or .seated them firmly upon a cobbler's bench and bade them earn an honest living. Others traveled a little way upon the road to fame and then failed, passing away like Moses, with eyes ever fixed upon the promised land which thev were not to enter. And a few there were — sometimes those who cared least — who attained the goal. It seems as though this often came about merely by reason of their love of the work. It is not likely that these ' ' little masters ' ' of the renaissance were thinking greatly of posterity ; they were just enjoying their art, dreaming of gentle Madonnas and charming, chubby bambinos ; often, indeed, they were thinking especially of making a living. One of the most delightful of the number had one of the prettiest names ; his parents called him Desiderio — ' ' the desired one ' ' — and, as they lived in the village of Settignano, a few miles out of Florence, he was known all his life long as Desiderio of Settignano. He studied with Donatello, and had not only much talent but a distinct style of his own. When he copied the work of his famous master he gave it certain little peculiarities of treatment which are easily recognized. We know his busts and reliefs to this day by means of these " earmarks." The Madonna and Christ-child was a fa- vorite theme at this time, and the number of beautiful variations of this subject which were produced is astonishing. There are wistful Madonnas and happy Madonnas ; some that are so spiritual that they seem already translated, and others so frankly human that you know they must be likenesses of real, happy, earthly mothers. The Christ-child varies likewise, all the way from a pensive, sad-eyed infant to a rollicking little Puck, all dimples and smiles. No doubt people differed as much in tastes then as now, and so there was a new Madonna for every devout pur- chaser. Desiderio 's greatest work was a wonderful tomb in the old church of the Holy Cross, in Florence, a tomb most elaborately wrought with reliefs and angel figures, and finally the solemn dead form of the man who was buried there — a stately individual with a name too long for the limits of this article. His face was wonderfully carved, and so were all of the portraits which this gentle artist produced. There is one of Marietta Strozzi, the daughter of a famous house, which is so much like her that you would recognize her if you were to meet her on the street. It is a sweet, amiable face, with an expression which makes one feel that she is about to speak, but it would be in old-time Italian if she did, so that is all the good it would do us. Then there is little " Peter," as I call him, because I do not know his real name. He Is the cunningest little fellow, with a saucy round face. He has a snub nose and pointed upper lip, and ears that .stand out from his head. In .short, he is a perfect mother's dar- ling, who makes you smile every time you look at him. But I shall never know whose little bov " Peter " was. [26] XXIII. VESUVIUS must have been an awe- inspiring sight recently, especially nights, yet some find the mountain's sinister work at Pomi)eii even more impres- sive. To many the Coliseum is the greatest spectacle in Italy ; others remember only St. Peter's, while yet others find nothing to com- pare with the grandeur of Milan Cathedral. Not a few, however, will agree with the writer that they felt more profound sensations in the Sistine Chapel at Rome and in the Medici Chapel at Florence than anywhere else in all that wonderful, beautiful land. They are both the work of Michelangelo, the greatest arti.st of the renaissance, perhaps the greatest of all time. To what other man has it been given to create two such sanctu- aries as these ? In the Sistine Chapel one sees the master's tremendous thoughts ex- pressed in painting. The lofty vault is cov- ered with his sublime pictures of scriptural scenes and characters, while the end of the hall is like a ^^^ndow opening into a vast pano- rama of the "Last Judgment," a terrible vision sketched by an inexorable hand. In that other chapel, in Florence, we find the triumphant work of Michelangelo in the field which was his own by di\nne right. Here his scepter is the chisel, and his sway is undisputed. The majesty of these giant creations is almost overpowering. Their magnificent bodies are indeed adequate, but upon us the burden of their world-weary souls rests heavily — we are no giants. What a power was his to conceive, to feel ! What a gift to convey this feeling to others ! No one can enter that marble hall and gaze \\4thout a thrill of emotion upon the massive forms of "Day" and "Night," of "Morn- ing ' ' and ' ' Evening. ' ' And although we know that the sculptor had no thought of portraying in the faces of those two seated warriors the features of the unworthy dukes whose memory these monuments so disdain- fully, yet so gloriously, celebrate, it is im- possible not to feel in them li\'ing presences. The * ' Lorenzo ' ' particularly, which we il- lustrate here, is a masterpiece of suggestion. It is called "The Thinker," and it is almost impossible to divest one's self of the feeling that behind that gloomy face a round of slow- revolving thoughts is marking the flight of the ages. It was of this head that our ow^n Hawthorne wrote in eloquent words how the master's magic chisel had left the block and fairly carved in air the shadow^' features, seemingly dependent no longer upon material. The great French sculptor, Rodin, once said that his idea of a statue was the same as Michelangelo's — a figure that could be rolled down hill without breaking anything off. See how well the lines of "The Thinker" illustrate such an idea of compactness. As the master foresaw the figure within the block, so we in turn feel that there still re- mains in the statue somewhat of the ma.ss and immobility of the stone. Quiet and self- centered it is, yet full of potent energ>-. Michelangelo never wished to give his statues motion, but he always charged them with life so that they seem to need but the word in order to arise and use their strength. How did thi.«i man become ro great? Who shall say? Hist parents were not even in- terested in art, his father being bitterly op- jxj.sed to his choice of profession. But the boy could not do otherwise ; the vocation was laid upon him ; a sculptor he w^ to be. His teachers were mediocre men. It mattered not; they gave him what he required — the use of tools. He supplied the rtjst. Some have to learn painfully, step by step. His was a mind which leajied, or rather flew, and recognized at once the best. All that others had done served as his le.s.Hons ; their experi- ments were his and he needed not to do them over again. Their failures and faults he avoided, their best [xjints — the poses of Donatello, the massing of Delia Quercia — he adopted and made his own. He began his professional career with the skill and knowl- Lorenzo de Medici, by Michelangelo edge of experienced age coupled with the energy' of youth. At twentv-five Michelangelo had completed his "Pieta," one of his most perfect works; at thirty, his " David " won for him the grate- ful homage of his native city and made his name famous throughout all Italy. Torn from his favorite art and the colossal project of the tomb for St. Peter's, and forced by the whim of an erratic ix>pe to paint the ceiling of the Sistine Chajiel. he produced in this unfamiliar field the grandest decoration in the world, doing the entire work with his own hands. Again and again he returned to that majestic vision of the tomb of Julius II., only to be thwarted. The struggle of those somber years has been called "The Tragedy of the Tomb." Later came these other tombs, destined like most of his works to remain un- finished. But what splendid fragments they are ! It is a liberal education to know these sculptures and their stor>'. [27] XXIV. THE majesty of Greek art, the charm of the early renaissance and the sublimity of Michelangelo take hold of us so strongly that we are in danger of forgetting that other men in other times loved beauty as ardently as did the Greeks and their descend- ants. Other nations have glorified their God with an art as sumptuous and, in its way, as exquisite. Long before the renaissance had awakened classic sculpture from its long sleep the fierce Northmen had perfected the style of architecture which we call "Gothic." It did not come all at once, but was the result of centuries of experiment. In the thirteenth century it burst into full bloom, and northern France and England were covered with the splendor of it. This is .not the place to de- the historv of France — at'least a small portion of it. ' The panel which we show below represents the famous meeting of Francis I. and Henry VIII. of England on "The Field of the Cloth of Gold." Even the carving gives some hint of the gorgeousness of the scene. It is inter- esting to note how differently horses and riders are treated here from those which we saw in the Parthenon frieze. This relief seems more like some of those old Assyrian sculp- tures, all full of " upholstery." The occasion which brought these distin- guished royal gentlemen together was the making of a treaty, but they did not take this too seriously, and there were various diver- sions to make the time pass pleasantly. ' ' For — - -iv^r* ^ ' ^i 4^. . 4^1 VV^^ 1' ,.J^ " y. ■/: r>' Meeting of Henry VIII. and Francis I. at the Field of the Cloth of Gold scribe those glorious cathedrals which all at once began to climb heavenward from a hun- dred cities, and which still vie with one an- other in their 4izzy heights and in their magnificence. They were jeweled over with rich sculpture ; the pious workmen seemed to fairly breathe their prayers into the stone. When the cathedrals were done, the sculp- tors turned to the decoration of private build- ings, and .many a palatial structure was so richly decorated by the skilful French carvers of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries that its surface can be compared to nothing but embroidery. No city has preserved so much of the quaint, old-time flavor as Rouen, where, in treading the narrow streets, one can almost imagine himself in a mediaeval city. Among the interesting buildings there is the vener- able "Hotel Bourgtheroulde," which, al- though built about four hundred years ago, is still used as a banking-house. One wanders into the courtyard and is lost in amazement at the reliefs which cover the entire walls. Some are scriptural in subject ; some illustrate ten days the two sovereigns fought five com- bats every day, and always beat their polite antagonists, ' ' says Dickens in his chatty his- tory. No doubt everybody was happy and well repaid, for those were days when people loved such spectacular doings. We are told that ' ' many of the knights and gentlemen were so superbly dressed that it is said they carried their whole estates upon their shoulders." Some people have been known to do that same thing in later times, but their prodigal splendors have not been recorded upon tablets of stone for all the world to see ! Too bad it was that the treaty which cost so much was promptly broken, but then it matters little to-day, since all who cared are gone, and all who shared in that brilliant tournament have been asleep these hundreds of years. They are dust along with the " silk tents and the gold foil and lace, ' ' along with ' ' the carpets and the gilt lions." Naught remains of the glories of the ' ' Field of the Cloth of Gold, ' ' save the relief on the old gray wall in Rouen. [28] XXV. THERE was no danger of mistaking; that relief from Rouen for a slab of the Par- thenon frieze, but most of my young readers will feel sure that \vc luive gone back to classic art now, and main older i>co])le cannot distinguish between the originals and these clever imitations by a modern man. Bertel Thorwaldsen, who made the frieze, "The Triiini])!! of Alexander," came nearer to the classic spirit than did any of his contem- poraries, but still he missed it by a good deal — just as every conscious imitator must miss the real spirit of things. He was a genuis all the same, if ever there was one, for this illit- erate son of a poor wood carver became the mostrenowned sculptor of his time. Thorwaldsen was born in Copenhagen in 1770. His father's work was the carving of wooden figureheads for merchant vessels. The boy may have inherited his talent, or. simple fell in love with ancient sculpture and imitated it as well as he knew how. His work soon Ijecame very |H>pular and he made statues and groujw for many noblemen of various countries. One of his most cele- brated works is the great ** Lion of Lucerne," a gigantic lion carved in a rocky hillside in Lucerne, Switzerland, to commemorate the brave Swiss guard of the French revolution. At one time (1812) Na|K>leon was ex{)ected in Rome, and great preparations were made to welcome the awesome gue.st. Among other decorations Thorwaldsen bethought him of a great frieze in the style of the Parthenon, to embellish one of the halls of the royal palace. The enormous work — over one hundred and fifteen feet in length and four feet high — was done in great haste, bbt was .so succes.sful that it has been reproduced several times in marble. The subject chosen by the sculptor was appro- Section of Triumph o( Alexander By Thorwaldsen rather, his inclination, toward sculpture from the family tradition of the shop. They say he was a pretty child, with blue eyes and light hair, and that he was of gentle and timid dis- position. He was not a brilliant student except in drawing and modeling. In these departments he began taking medals while a mere boy, and he kept on taking them until he finally won the highest reward offered by the Danish schools — the * ' grand prize of sculpture," and a pension for further study in Italv. He had become something of a dreamer, but his visit to the land of art started him anew. His arrival in Rome was to him the opening of a new life. " I was born on the 8th of March, 1797, " he u.sed to say. ' ' Before that I did jiot exist." The ancient statues ap- pealed to him with an indescribable fascination. The celebratied Italian sculptor, Canova, was living at t^at time, and he gave the honest voung man a cordial welcome. He probably did not suspect that his modest visitor was destined to overshadow even his great fame. Canova's art was inclined to the theatrical, but Thorwald-sen was not contami- nated bv the traditions of modern Italy ; he priate : ' ' The Triumphant Entry of Alexander Into Babylon." The slab which we show represents the chariot of Alexander with its dashing steeds, conducted by a winged Victory. The hero, with si^ear in hand, turns back to glance at the advancing column of soldiers. The.se fol- low in great numbers and are very ingeniously grouped — horsemen and f(K)t sfildiers and even an elephant. Then from the other side advance the hosts of the vancjuished with gifts. They are led by the Goddess of Peace, bearing an olive branch. The whole thing is a beautiful conception, harmonious and impressive. It is not modern in either subject or treatment, but it is good .sculpture. After Thorwald.sen's death a mu.seum of all his works was established in his native city. It is an interesting collection and gives en court, where under the green turf the gentle artist is buried. It is a peaceful spot, a sacred shrine ; one likes to think of him slumbering there, surrounded by all of his beautiful, white dream-children. [29] Six Views of Schoolrooms, Showing Decorations Stage of Assembly Hall, East Boston High School, East Boston, Mass. Greek Room, Newton High School, Newtonville, Mass. This room has part of the Parthenon frieze, placed above the blackboards, between the doors and windows [30] Greek Room, Phillips Elxeter Academy, Elxeter, N, H. The statue of Apollo in this room is of the original size, 7 feet 6 inches in height, standing on a pedestal 2 feet high English Room, Phillips Exeter Academy. Exeter. N. H. The statue of the Faun (Hawthorne) is of the original size, 6 feet 3 Inches in height, standing on a pedestal about 2 feet high. The busts of English authors on brackets above the blackboard are life size [31] Assembly Hall, Bigelow Grammar School, Newton, Mass. The frieze shown in this illustration is half of the Cantoria frieze by Luca della Robbia, set in a wooden frame. The remaining ha#is on the opposite side of the room. Assembly Hall, Pierce Grammar School, Brookline, iMass. This hall has three large statues, full size — Niobe and Daughter in the center of the stage, Minerva and Diana at each side of the stage. The rear of the hall has a bust on bracket between each window and a frieze of the Parthenon is at each side of the hall, extending the entire length. [32]