Bernini executed a statue of St. Bibiana for the church of that saint at Rome, and one of St. Longinus in one of the niches to the dome of St. Peter's; he also made the designs for the one hundred and sixty-two statues in the colonnades of St. Peter's, and for the decorations of the bridge of St. Angelo; in such works, almost without exception, he chose some moment in the lives of the persons represented that called for a striking attitude and gave an opportunity for an effect that is often theatrical. As a mere decoration such statues have a certain value of an inferior sort; but as works of art, as intellectual efforts, they are worthless. However, this decorative effect, as it is seen on the façade of the Lateran, where the figures stand out against the sky, or on the bridge of St. Angelo, is not by any means to be despised; only we cannot call a sculptor a great artist when he can do nothing finer than this.

Some of Bernini's works in which he shows intense suffering have more genuine feeling, and are finer in artistic qualities. One of these is Pietà, in the chapel of St. Andreas Corsini in the Lateran. But he frequently goes beyond the bounds of good taste, as, for example, on the monument to Pope Urban VIII., in St. Peter's, where he represents Death with his bony hand writing the inscription on the panel; this is truly terrible, and not less so is another Death upon the monument of Alexander VII., raising the marble curtain before the entrance to the vault, as if he were inviting one to walk in. Many objections can be made to his draperies. He exaggerated the small curtains seen on some ancient tombs until they were huge objects of ugliness; the drapery upon his figures is so prominently treated that instead of being a minor object it sometimes seems like the principal one; it no longer serves to conceal forms, and at the same time show their grace and motion, but it is inflated, fluttering, grotesque in form and quite absurd when compared with statues in which it answers its true purpose.

Charles I. of England heard so much of Bernini that he desired to have a statue of himself executed by this sculptor; three of Vandyck's portraits of the king were sent to him, and the likeness of the statue was so satisfactory to the monarch that he sent the artist six thousand crowns and a ring worth as much more.

Bernini executed a colossal equestrian statue of Constantine for the portico of St. Peter's; he made another of Louis XIV., which was changed into a Marcus Curtius, and sent to Versailles. He also executed the fountain in the Piazza Navona, at Rome, which is one of his exaggerated works.

François Duquesnoy (1594-1646) was born at Brussels, and was known in Rome as Il Fiammingo. The Archduke Albert sent him to Rome to study, and he was a contemporary of Bernini. When his patron died Duquesnoy was left without means, and was forced to carve small figures in ivory for his support. His figures of children, which were full of life and child-like expression, became quite famous. An important work of his in this way is the fountain of the Manneken-Pis, at Brussels.

His masterpiece is a colossal statue of St. Andrew in the Church of St. Peter's; it occupied him five years, and is one of the best works of modern art. His statue of St. Susanna in the Church of Santa Maria di Loreto, in Rome, is simple and noble, and is much admired. Little is known of this artist's life, and it is said that he was poisoned by his brother when on his way to France.

There was a goodly company of sculptors following Bernini, but none whose works or life was of sufficient importance or interest to demand our attention here, and we will pass to the sculpture of France, where the arts were less devoted to the service of the Church and more to the uses of kings, princes, and noblemen. The court of France was devoted to pomp and pleasure, and sculpture was used for the glorification of the leaders in all its follies. In one sense this is more agreeable than the art in Italy which we have been considering, for nothing can be more disagreeable than a false religious sentiment in art; it is only when the artist is filled with true devotion and feels deeply in his own soul all that he tries to express in his work that religious representations can appeal to us agreeably or benefit us by their influence.

Simon Guillain (1581-1658) is especially interesting as the sculptor of the statue of Louis XIV. as a boy, which is in the Louvre; those of his parents are also there; formerly they decorated the Pont au Change. Other works by this master are in the same museum.

Jacques Sarrazin (1588-1660) is only known by his works, which are now in the Louvre, of which a bronze bust of the Chancellor Pierre Séguier is worthy of notice.

François Anguier (1604-1669) was born at Eu, in Normandy, and was the son of a carpenter, who taught his son to carve in wood at an early age. When still quite young François went to Paris to study, and later to Rome. He became one of the first artists of his time in France, and was a favorite of the king, Louis XIII., who made him keeper of the gallery of antiquities, and gave him apartments in the Louvre. Most of his important works were monuments to illustrious men. His copies of antique sculptures were very fine.

Michel Anguier (1612-1686) was a brother of the preceding, with whom he studied until they both went to Rome. Michel remained there ten years, and was employed with other artists in St. Peter's and in some palaces. In 1651 he returned to Paris, and assisted François in the great work of the tomb of the Duke de Montmorenci at Moulins.

Michel executed a statue of Louis XIII., which was cast in bronze. He adorned the apartments of Queen Anne of Austria in the Louvre, and for her executed the principal sculptures in the Church of Val de Grace; a Nativity in this church is his best work. His sculptures are seen in various churches, and he also executed statues of ancient gods and vases for garden ornaments. He was a professor in the Academy of Arts in Paris, and wrote lectures on sculpture.

François Girardon (1630-1715), born at Troyes, was a protégé of the Chancellor Séguier. Louis XIV. gave him a pension, by which he was enabled to study in Rome, and after his return to France the king gave him many commissions. The monument to Cardinal Richelieu in the Church of the Sorbonne is from the hand of this sculptor. Perhaps his best-known work is the Rape of Proserpine at Versailles. He made an equestrian statue of Louis XIV., which was destroyed in the Revolution; a model of it in bronze is in the Louvre. His bust of Boileau is a strong, fine work. Many of his sculptures were destroyed by the revolutionists.

A devoted follower of Bernini was Pierre Puget (1622-1694). His works are seen at the Louvre and at Versailles. His group of Milo of Crotona endeavoring to free himself from the claws of the lion is full of life and is natural, but the subject is too repulsive to be long examined; his Perseus liberating Andromeda is more agreeable, and is noble in its forms and animated in expression. His Alexander and Diogenes is in relief, and is effective and picturesque.

Antoine Coysevox (1640-1720) was born at Lyons, and manifested his artistic talent very early in life. Before he was seventeen years old he had distinguished himself by a statue of the Virgin, and progressed rapidly in his studies, which he made in Paris. In 1667 he was engaged by Cardinal Furstenburg to go to Alsace to decorate his palace; this occupied him four years. When he again went to Paris he became a very eminent artist. He executed a statue of Louis XIV., and received a commission from the province of Bretagne for an equestrian statue of the same monarch.

Among his best works are the tomb of Cardinal Mazarin; the tomb of the great Colbert in the Church of St. Eustache; the monument of Charles le Brun in the Church of St. Nicolas; the statue of the great Condé; the marble statue of Louis XIV., in the Church of Notre Dame, and others. In the tomb of Mazarin he showed fine powers of construction and excellence of design. The kneeling figure of the minister is a dignified statue and well executed; the statues in bronze of Prudence, Peace, and Fidelity, and the marble figures of Charity and Religion are each and all noble works, and free to a remarkable degree from the mannerisms and faults of his time.

Nicolas Coustou (1658-1733) was a nephew and pupil of Coysevox. He took the grand prize at Paris, and went to Rome to study when he was twenty-three years old. He made many copies of the antique. After his return to France he was much employed. His chief work was a colossal representation of the Junction of the Seine and the Marne. He also made for the city of Lyons a bronze statue representing the river Saone. Some of his sculptures are in the Church of Notre Dame.

Guillaume Coustou (1678-1746), brother of Nicolas, also gained the grand prize and went to Rome, and on his return made a fine reputation. Much of his best work was for the gardens of Marly; he executed a bronze statue of the Rhone at Lyons; a bas-relief of Christ with the Doctors, at Versailles, and statues of Louis XIV. and Cardinal Dubois, in the Museum of French Monuments.

Jean Baptiste Pigalle (1714-1785) is the last French sculptor of whom I shall speak here. He was born in Paris, and gained his first fame by a statue of Mercury; but his masterpiece was the tomb of Marshal Moritz of Saxony, in the Church of St. Thomas, at Strasburg. The soldier is represented in his own costume, just as he wore it in life, about to enter a tomb, on one side of which stands a skeleton Death, and on the other a mourning Hercules. A statue representing France tries to hold him back, and a Genius attends on him with an inverted torch. There are many accessories of military emblems and trophies. There have been several engravings made from this tomb, the best part of which is the figure of the Marshal.

Pigalle was a favorite with Mme. Pompadour, of whom he made a portrait statue. She employed him to do many works for her. His best monument in Paris is that of the Comte d'Harcourt, in the Church of Notre Dame.

In the Netherlands, as in Italy, the painting of the time had a great effect upon sculpture, and it was full of energy, like the pictures of the Rubens school; at the same time there remained traces of the traditions of former days, and while a great change had come since the days of Vischer, there was still a firm adherence to nature, and no such affectations and mannerisms existed here as were seen in the works of Bernini and his followers in Italy and France.

One of the ablest sculptors of his day was Arthur Quellinus, who was born at Antwerp in 1607. He studied under Duquesnoy, and was especially happy in his manner of imagining his subjects, and of avoiding the imitation of others or a commonplace treatment of his own. The magnificent Town Hall of Antwerp was commenced in 1648, and Quellinus received the commission to decorate it with plastic works. His sculptures are numerous, both on the interior and exterior of the edifice. In the two pediments he introduced allegorical representations of the power of the city of Antwerp, especially in her commerce. These compositions are picturesque in their arrangement, but the treatment is such as belongs to sculpture; in one of these a figure which represents the city is enthroned like a queen, and is surrounded by fantastic sea-gods, who offer their homage to her. (Fig. 112.)

We cannot give a list of many detached works by Quellinus, but one of the best of the old monuments in Berlin is attributed to him. It is the tomb of Count Sparr in the Marienkirche.

At the present day Berlin is a city of much artistic importance, and the beginning of its present architectural and sculptural prominence may be dated at about the end of the seventeenth century, not quite two hundred years ago. One of the most influential artists of that time was Andreas Schlüter (1662-1714), who was born in Hamburg. His father was a sculptor of no prominence, but he took his son with him to Dantzig, where many Netherlandish artists were employed upon the buildings being constructed there. Andreas Schlüter was naturally gifted, and he devoted himself to the study of both architecture and sculpture, at home and later in Italy. Before he was thirty years old he was employed in important affairs in Warsaw, and in 1694 he was summoned to Berlin, where he executed the plastic ornaments of the Arsenal; the heads of the Dying Warriors above the windows in the court-yard are remarkable works. They are very fine when regarded only as excellent examples of good sculpture, and they are very effective placed as they are, for they seem to tell the whole tragic story of what a soldier's life and fate must often be (Fig. 113).

However, the masterpiece of this sculptor is the equestrian statue of the Great Elector for the long bridge at Berlin, which was completed in 1703 (Fig. 114). Lübke says of this: "Although biassed as regards form by the age which prescribed the Roman costume to ideal portraits of this kind, the horseman on his mighty charger is conceived with so much energy, he is filled with such power of will, he is so noble in bearing and so steady in his course, that no other equestrian statue can be compared with this in fiery majesty. Equally masterly is the arrangement of the whole, especially the four chained slaves on the base, in whom we gladly pardon a certain crowding of movements and forms."

Schlüter also made a statue of the Elector Frederic III., which is now in Königsberg. Besides his works in sculpture he was the architect of the royal palaces at Potsdam, Charlottenburg, and Berlin, and there are many sculptures by him at these places. When he was thus in an important position and at the height of professional prosperity he met with a sad misfortune, from the effects of which he never recovered. A chime of bells had been purchased in Holland, and Schlüter was commissioned to arrange an old tower for their reception. He carried it higher than it had been, and was proceeding to finish it, when it threatened to fall, and had to be pulled down. On account of this Schlüter was dismissed from his position as court architect; and though his office of sculptor was left to him his power was gone, and he was broken down in spirit. He was called to St. Petersburg by Peter the Great, and died soon after. Now, the verdict of judges is that he was one of the greatest artists of his age, and that his works, both in sculpture and architecture, belong to the noblest productions of his century.

CHAPTER IX.

Naturally the question as to where artists could turn for their models was an important one, and as before in various epochs in art the antique had been the "only help in time of trouble," so it proved again. In 1764 Winckelmann published his "History of Ancient Art," in which the rich significance of classic art was clearly placed before the student. The service which this author rendered to art can scarcely be over-estimated, coming, as it did, at a time when the genius of art seemed to have turned his back upon the world, and all true inspiration was lost. At about the same time the monuments of Athens were recalled to the European world by Stuart and Revett in their architectural designs, and by the end of the century the study of the antique had done its transforming work, and artists were striving for more worthy ends than the favor of kings and powerful patrons. This new study of classic art did not show its full and best results until the Danish sculptor Thorwaldsen executed his works; but before his time others were striving for that which it was his privilege to perfect.

Among the earliest and most famous of these eighteenth-century reformers was the Venetian, Antonio Canova (1757-1822). He was born in Possagno, and was the son and grandson of stone-cutters. His father died when he was very young, and he was thus left to the care and instruction of his grandfather, the old Pasino Canova, who lost no time in accustoming the boy to the use of the chisel, for there are cuttings in existence which were executed by Canova in his ninth year. Signor Giovanni Faliero dwelt near Possagno, and was in the habit of employing Pasino Canova frequently; he entertained such respect for the old stone-cutter that he sometimes asked him to spend a few days at his villa. On these visits the old man was accompanied by Antonio, who soon became a favorite with all the family of Faliero, and a friend of the young Giuseppe.

On one occasion when Pasino and the boy attended a festival at Villa Faliero, the ornament for the dessert was forgotten. When the servants remembered it at the last moment they went to the old Pasino in distress, and begged him to save them from the displeasure of the master. The old man could do nothing for them, but the young Tonin, as he was called, asked for some butter, and from it quickly carved a lion. At table this strange ornament attracted the attention of all the guests, and Tonin was called in to receive their praises; from this time the Senator Faliero became his patron, and he placed the boy under the instruction of Giuseppe Bernardi, called Toretto, a Venetian sculptor who had settled at Pagnano.

At this time Canova was twelve years old; he studied two years under Toretto, and made many statues and models, which are still preserved by the Faliero family, or in other collections. His first really original work was the modelling of two angels in clay; he did these during an absence of his master's; he placed them in a prominent place, and then awaited Toretto's opinion with great anxiety. When the master saw them he was filled with surprise, and exclaimed that they were truly marvellous; from these models the grandfather cut two angels in pietra dura for the high-altar at Monfumo. At this same period Canova made his first representations of the human form; he was accustomed to make small statues and give them to his friends.

When he was fifteen years old Faliero sent for him, and received him into his own family. Canova wished to earn something for himself, and engaged to work half of the day for Giuseppe Ferrari, who was a nephew of his former master, Toretto. Of this time Canova afterward wrote: "I labored for a mere pittance, but it was sufficient. It was the fruit of my own resolution, and, as I then flattered myself, the foretaste of more honorable rewards." This circumstance proves how remarkable he must have been; it is unusual for a boy of fifteen to be paid for work instead of paying for instruction. In Venice he was able to learn much from observation. He divided his time systematically, spending his mornings in the Academy or some gallery, his afternoons in the shop where he was employed, and his evenings in studies for which he had had no opportunity as a child.

The first commission which was given to Canova was from the Commendatore Farsetti for a pair of baskets filled with fruit and flowers, to be sculptured in marble, and placed on a staircase which led to the picture gallery in the Farsetti Palace, where Canova spent much time in study. These works have no special excellence.

After a year in Venice he went to Asolo with the Faliero family. Some time before this his patron had asked Canova to make for him a group of Orpheus and Eurydice, taking the moment when Eurydice beholds her lover torn away from her forever. Canova had been busy with this in his leisure hours in Venice, and he took with him to Asolo everything necessary to the work. He completed the Eurydice in his sixteenth year; it was life-size, and cut from pietra di Costosa.

With this first attempt Canova became convinced that the small models such as were in use by sculptors were quite insufficient to good work, and he determined that his models should be of the size which the finished work would have, even when colossal.

After this time he had his studio in a cell of the monastery of the Augustine friars attached to the Church of San Stefano, in Venice. During the next three years he was occupied with his Orpheus and a bust of the Doge Renier. At this time he studied entirely from nature; he devoted himself to the pursuit of anatomy, and after a time was accustomed to make dissections in order to sketch or model from important parts or some conformations that he desired in particular instances.

In 1776 his Orpheus was finished and exhibited, and it chanced to be at the annual festival of the Ascension, when the opera of Orpheus was brought out in Venice. Canova was accustomed to say that the praise he then received was "that which made him a sculptor;" and so grateful was he for it that later, when he became Marquis of Ischia, he chose for his armorial ensigns the lyre and serpent which are the mythological symbols of Orpheus and Eurydice. The Senator Grimani ordered a copy of the Orpheus, and this was the first work of Canova in Carrara marble.

He soon found his workshop too small, and removed to one in the street of San Maurizio, where he remained until he left his native country. His next work was a statue of Æsculapius, larger than life; a short time before his death, when he saw this statue, he sorrowfully declared that "his progress had by no means corresponded with the indications of excellence in this performance of his youth." About this time he executed an Apollo and Daphne which was never entirely finished, and when twenty-two years old he completed a group of Dædalus and Icarus for the Senator Pisani. This was intended for an exterior decoration of his palace; but when it was done Pisani considered it worthy of a place in his gallery, already famous on account of the painting of Darius and his Family, by Paul Veronese, and other fine works. This may be called Canova's last work in Venice, as he went to Rome soon after his twenty-third birthday.

The Cavaliere Zuliani was then the representative of Venice in Rome, and Faliero gave Canova letters to him. Zuliani was an enlightened patron of art, and he received the young sculptor with great kindness, and soon arranged to have his model of Dædalus and Icarus exhibited to the best artists and judges of art in Rome. We can fancy the anxiety with which Canova went to this exhibition; but the praise which he there received secured for him a place among the artists then in Rome.

Canova had a great desire to undertake a group of some important subject, and Zuliani was his friend in this; for he gave him the marble, and promised if no other purchaser appeared to give him the full value of the work when completed. He also gave him a workshop in the Venetian Palace, to which no one had access, where he could be entirely free and undisturbed. The subject chosen for the group was Theseus vanquishing the Minotaur, and the size was to be colossal. Canova now worked with untiring devotion; he was often seen before the statues on Monte Cavallo, with sketch-book in hand, as soon as it was light enough for him to see, and he studied faithfully in the museums and galleries of Rome. His friends in Venice had secured for him a pension of three hundred ducats, which placed him above want, and he was free to devote himself to his Theseus, although while at work on that he made a statue of Apollo, which was exhibited with Angelini's Minerva, and received much praise.

Meantime no one knew of the Theseus save the ambassador. When it was finished Zuliani prepared it for exhibition, and invited all the most distinguished men in Rome to an entertainment. A model of the head of Theseus was put in a prominent place, and the guests were busy in discussing it; they asked questions and expressed opinions, and when their interest was well awakened Zuliani said: "Come, let us end this discussion by seeing the original," and the statue was unveiled before their eyes. Canova often declared that death itself could not have been more terrible to him than were those moments. But he and all else were forgotten in the surprise and admiration which the group excited; in that hour the artists who afterward hated him gave him their sincere praise. From that day the fame of Canova was established.

Very soon he was selected to erect a monument to Clement XIV. This pope was a famous man; he was the collector of the Clementine Museum, the author of the elegant letters known by his family name of Ganganelli, and, above all, he was the suppressor of the Jesuits. While Canova felt the honor that was thus offered him he also thought himself bound to consult those who had conferred his pension upon him, and thus helped him to become the artist that he was. He went, therefore, to Venice and sought direction from the Senate; he was told to employ his time as should be most profitable to himself. He therefore gave up his studio in Venice, and as his patron, Zuliani, had now left Rome, he fitted up the studio in the Strada Babbuino, which became so well known to lovers of art of all nations who visited Rome. In 1787 the above monument was exhibited, and was much admired. An engraving was made from it and dedicated to Zuliani; but Canova desired to do something more worthy for his patron, and made a statue of Psyche as a gift to him; Zuliani hesitated to accept it, but finally consented to do so if Canova would in turn accept a number of silver medals with the Psyche on one side and a head of Canova on the other, which he could give to his friends. In the midst of all this Zuliani died, and his heirs were so angry because he had left works of art to the Public Library that they refused to carry out his plans. In the end the Psyche was bought by Napoleon and presented to the Queen of Bavaria.

Canova executed a second papal monument to Pope Clement XIII. It was erected in St. Peter's by his nephews. The mourning genius upon it is frequently mentioned as one of Canova's happiest figures. The execution of these two monuments occupied almost ten years of the best part of this sculptor's life.

Canova's fame had extended over all Europe, and he was asked to go to St. Petersburg, and offered most advantageous terms if he would do so; but he declined, and executed the monument of Admiral Emo, on a commission from the Venetian Senate. For this work he received a gold medal and an annuity for life.

In 1798, during the revolutionary excitement at Rome, Canova went to Possagno, his native town. Here, in his retirement, he painted more than twenty pictures, which were by no means to be despised. His masterpiece represented the Saviour just taken from the cross, and surrounded by the Marys, St. John, Nicodemus, and Joseph of Arimathea. This was the first of the many gifts which he made to this little church, by which it became a splendid temple and the expression of Canova's love for his birthplace and early home.

After he returned to Rome his health was not sufficient to allow of his usual close application to work, and he went to Berlin and Vienna in company with Prince Rezzonico, and this so benefited him that he was able to resume his labors with new energy. He soon achieved a proud triumph, for his Perseus was placed in one of the Stanze of the Vatican by a public decree; this was the first modern work which had been thus honored.

In 1802-1803 Napoleon requested Canova to go to Paris to model a portrait bust for a colossal statue; the work was finished six years later. In 1805 the artist went again to Vienna, where he modelled a bust of the Emperor of Austria; in 1810 again to Paris to prepare a model for the statue of Maria Louisa. With the exception of these short journeys he was constantly at work in his Roman studio until 1815, when he was sent in an official capacity to France by the pope, for the purpose of reclaiming the works of art which had been carried from Italy in times of war, and which really belonged to the patrimony of the Church. Canova executed his commission with rare judgment, and then continued his journey to England. In London he received many honors; the king gave him an order for a group, held several conversations with him, made him valuable gifts, and intrusted him with a private letter to the pope.

Canova returned to Rome on January 5th, 1816. His entry might almost be called a triumphal one, for the people of Rome were so grateful for the restoration of their treasures that they expressed their joy in demonstrations to Canova. He had been President of St. Luke's Academy before; he was now made President of the Commission to purchase works of art, and of the Academy of Archæology. In full consistory of all the high officers of the Church, the pope caused his name to be inscribed upon the "golden volume of the Capitol," and conferred upon him the title of Marquis of Ischia, with a pension of three thousand crowns a year.

Canova now determined to execute a colossal statue of Religion, which should commemorate the return of the pope from banishment. He endeavored to persuade the authorities to decide where it should be placed; this was not done, and he was much grieved at his failure to carry out the idea. But he determined that from this time he would devote his life and fortune to religion, and resolved to erect a church at Possagno, to adorn it with works of art, and to make it his own burial-place.

On July 8th, 1819, Canova assembled his workmen in his native town, and gave them a fête; many peasant girls joined in the festivities and assisted in the breaking of the ground; at evening, as they all passed before Canova to bid him farewell, each one received a gift from him. Three days later the religious ceremony of laying the corner-stone of the future church took place. An immense number of people from the surrounding country and from Venice were present; Canova, in his robes as a Knight of Christ, and wearing the insignia of other orders, led the procession; all who had seen Canova when a poor boy in their midst were much impressed by this occasion. Here, in a public manner, he consecrated his life and fortune to the service of God and the benefit of his birthplace. Every autumn Canova went to Possagno to encourage the workmen and to give directions as to how the whole should be done. Between these visits he worked devotedly, for he was forced to earn all he could in order to pay for his great undertaking.

At this time he executed a statue of Washington, and was making an equestrian statue of Ferdinand of Naples, and in the month of May, 1822, went to that city, where he fell ill; he returned to Rome, and revived somewhat, and resumed his work. On September 17th he went to Possagno, in October to Villa Faliero, where, fifty years before, he had spent such happy days. From here he went to Venice, and on the 13th of the same month he died.

Solemn services were held in the cathedral, and his remains were then intrusted to the priests of Possagno, who bore them to their temple, where he was buried on the 25th of the month; the crowd was so great that the oration was delivered in the open air. Canova's heart was given to the Academy of Venice, and an elegant little monument was erected in the Palace of Arts to contain this relic of the sculptor. The Venetian artists arranged to erect to him a monument, and chose the design which he himself had made for the tomb of Titian; it is in the Church of Santa Maria de' Frari. In Rome a statue was decreed to him, and he was declared the perpetual President of her chief academy.

In personal appearance Canova was not grand or very attractive. His head was remarkably well placed upon his shoulders, and the loose manner in which he dressed his neck allowed this to be seen; his forehead was a noble one, his hair black, and his whole manner and dress was modest and simple. His habits were very orderly and quiet; he rose early to work, and went little into public society; but he welcomed a few friends to dinner almost daily. He entertained them cordially, but without display, and led the conversation to light, cheerful topics that did not touch upon art, or demand mental exertion. At eleven o'clock he retired to his own room and amused himself with a book or pencil before sleeping. Some of his best drawings were made at this hour, and have been published with the title of "Pensieri," or thoughts. To describe one day was to give a picture of all, so regular were his habits of life.

In his professional life he was just and generous to others, and though he would have no pupils, he would leave everything to advise an artist or visit his works. He was also a patron of art, and had executed, at his own expense, the numerous busts of distinguished persons in the Capitoline Museum.

There is a story of a romance in his life. It is said that when he first arrived in Venice he fell in love with a beautiful girl who was older than himself, who went to draw in the Farsetti Gallery. Day by day he watched her until she came no more; at length her attendant returned, and Canova inquired for her mistress; she burst into tears and answered, "La Signora Julia is dead." He asked no more, and never knew who Julia was or any circumstances of her history; but all his life he treasured her image, and when he endeavored to unite the purity of an angel with the earthly beauty of a woman, the remembrance of Julia was always in his mind.

Canova was one of the few artists who received their full merit of praise and the benefits of their labors while alive. Without doubt he was a great sculptor, and coming as he did, at a time when art was at its worst, he seemed all the more remarkable to the men around him. But the verdict of to-day would not exalt him as highly as did his friends and patrons. His statues lack the repose which makes the grandest feature of the best sculpture; his female figures have a sentimental sort of air that is not all we could wish, and does not elevate them above what we may call pleasing art. His male figures are better, more natural and simple, though some of his subjects bordered on the coarse and brutal, as in the two fencers, Kreugas and Damoxenes, or Hercules and Lichas. But in his religious subjects he is much finer, and in some of his monuments he shows dignity and earnestness, while his composition is in the true artistic spirit. Taken on the whole, he was a wonderful artist and a man of whom his century might well be proud.

Other sculptors of this period and of different nations studied at Rome, and devoted themselves to the antique with enthusiasm. One of these was Antoine Denis Chaudet (1763-1810), who was born at Paris. His talent was so early developed that he was admitted to the Royal Academy when fourteen years old, and when twenty-one he gained the first prize, and with the royal pension went to Rome, where he remained five years. He soon took good rank among artists of that time, for he was a designer and painter as well as sculptor. He adhered strictly to the antique style, and attained much purity, though he was always cold in treatment. He was made a Professor of Sculpture in the French Academy, and made valuable contributions to the "Dictionary of Fine Arts."

Chaudet's principal works in sculpture were the silver statue of Peace in the Tuileries; a statue of Cincinnatus in the Senate Chamber; a statue of Œdipus; a bas-relief of Painting, Sculpture, and Architecture, in the Musée Napoléon, and many busts and smaller works.

He also designed numerous medals and some of the illustrations for a fine edition of Racine, and painted a picture of Æneas and Anchises in the Burning of Troy.

Johann Heinrich Dannecker (1758-1841) was born at Stuttgart. By a statue of Milo he gained the prize of the academy founded by Duke Charles Eugene, and with the royal pension he went first to Paris and then to Rome, where he studied seven years. He then returned to Würtemberg, and was made Director of the Royal Academy, with a salary of fifteen thousand francs a year. During fifteen years Dannecker maintained a high rank in his art, but his health became so feeble that he was forced to see others excel him. One of his works has a wide reputation, and is known to many people the world over, through the generosity of Herr Bethmann of Frankfort, who admits visitors to his gallery, and from the models and pictures which have been made from it; it is the Ariadne on a Panther (Fig. 117).

Dannecker had a delicate feeling for nature; his figures were light and graceful, and his heads were noble in expression. He labored eight years upon a figure of Christ, which belongs to the Emperor of Russia; in Stuttgart a nymph pouring water on Neckar Street and two nymphs on a reservoir in the palace garden show his fine taste in architectural sculpture. Among his other works are a statue of Alexander, a monument to Count Zeppelin, a Cupid, and a Maiden lamenting a Dead Bird. Some of his works are among the very best productions of modern sculpture; his portraits are noble and true to nature; the works named here are by no means all that he did, and we should add that his efforts in religious subjects exhibit a pure sense of the beautiful, and a true conception of Christian ideas.

We come now, for the first time, to a great English sculptor. John Flaxman (1755-1826) was born in York, but while he was still an infant his father removed to London, where he kept a plaster-cast shop. The boy began to draw and even to model very early; when but five years old he kept some soft wax, with which he could take an impression from any seal or ring or coin which pleased him. He was very delicate in health, and was once thought to be dead, and was prepared for burial, when animation returned; his parents tried to gratify all his wishes, and while a child he modelled a great number of figures in wax, clay, and plaster.

By the time he was ten years old he was much stronger, and was able to use the activity which corresponded to his enthusiastic feeling and imagination. About this time he read "Don Quixote," and was so moved by the adventures of that hero that he went out early one morning armed with a toy sword and bent upon protecting some forlorn damsel; he went to Hyde Park and wandered about all day, not finding any one who was in need of his services. At night he returned home, very hungry and weary, to find his family in great alarm over his unusual absence.

He now spent all his time in drawing and modelling, and never had more than two lessons from a master; at eleven years of age he began to gain various prizes, and at fourteen was admitted to study at the Royal Academy, and gained the silver medal there that same year. About this time he made some friends who aided him to study the classics and to learn more of history, all of which was of great use to him in his art. He was also fortunate in having the friendship of Mr. Wedgwood, for whom he made many models. He also painted a few pictures in oil.

Among his earliest sculptures were a group of Venus and Cupid and a monument to Mrs. Morley, who, with her baby, died at sea. Flaxman represented the mother and child rising from the sea and being received by descending angels.

In 1782 Flaxman married Miss Ann Denman, whose intelligence and love of art were of great assistance to her husband. In 1787 he went to Rome, where he remained seven years. During this time he made a group for Lord Bristol, representing the Fury of Athamas, from the Metamorphoses of Ovid; this work cost him much labor, for which he received but small pay; it was carried to Ireland and then to Ickworth House, in Suffolk, where but few people see it. In Rome Flaxman also made a group of Cephalus and Aurora for Mr. Thomas Hope, and the designs from Homer, Æschylus, and Dante, which have such a world-wide fame.

In 1794 he returned to England, where he was constantly employed on important works until his death. We cannot give a list of his numerous works. Many of his monuments are seen in the churches of England. In Glasgow are his statues of Mr. Pitt and Sir John Moore, in bronze; in Edinburgh is that of Robert Burns. Flaxman executed much sculpture for the East Indies, one of these works being unfinished when he died. Some critics consider his Archangel Michael and Satan his best work; it was made for the Earl of Egremont, who had his life-size Apollo also.

In 1797 Flaxman was elected an Associate of the Royal Academy, in 1800 an Academician, and in 1810, when a Professor of Sculpture was added to the other professors of the Academy, he was appointed to the office. His lectures have been published. The friezes on the Covent Garden Theatre were all designed by Flaxman, and he executed the figure of Comedy himself. His last work was making designs for the exterior decoration of Buckingham Palace, which would have been entirely under his direction and partly executed by him if he had lived.

His wife died in 1820, and her loss was a grief from which he could not recover; she had been a great advantage to him, and he had depended much upon her sympathy and counsel. Flaxman was a singularly pure man, and so attractive in manner that he was the friend of old and young alike.

Sir Richard Westmacott succeeded Flaxman as Professor at the Royal Academy; he said: "But the greatest of modern sculptors was our illustrious countryman, John Flaxman, who not only had all the fine feeling of the ancient Greeks (which Canova in a degree possessed), but united to it a readiness of invention and a simplicity of design truly astonishing. Though Canova was his superior in the manual part, high finishing, yet in the higher qualities, poetical feeling and invention, Flaxman was as superior to Canova as was Shakespeare to the dramatists of his day."

But the perfection of the results of the study of Canova and others who endeavored to raise sculpture to its ancient glory was seen in the Dane, Bertel Thorwaldsen (1770-1844), who was born in Copenhagen. The descent of this artist has been traced to memorable sources in two quite distinct ways. Those who claim that the Norsemen discovered America relate that during their stay upon this coast a child was born, from whom Thorwaldsen's descent can be distinctly followed. The learned genealogists of Iceland say that his ancestors were descended from Harald Hildetand, King of Denmark, who, in the eighth century, was obliged to flee, first to Norway and then to Iceland, and that one of his descendants, Oluf Paa, in the twelfth century, was a famous wood-carver. But this much is certain: in the fourteenth century there lived in Southern Iceland a wealthy man, whose family and descendants were much honored. One of these, Thorvald Gottskalken, a pastor, had two sons and but a small fortune; so he sent his sons to Copenhagen, where one became a jeweller and died young; the other, who was a wood-carver, was the father of the artist, whose mother was Karen Gröulund, the daughter of a Jutland peasant.

The father was employed in a shipyard, and carved only the rude ornaments of vessels and boats; but these served to lead the mind of the little Bertel to the art he later followed. His father could not have dreamed of such a future as came to his son, but he was wise enough to know that the boy might do more and better than he had done, and he sent him, when eleven years old, to the free school of the Royal Academy to study drawing; and very soon the works of the father showed the gain which the son had made, for his designs were those now used by the old wood-carver.

Bertel was also sent to study his books at the school of Charlottenburg, and here he was so far from clever that he was put in the lowest class. When Bertel gained his first prize at the academy the chaplain of the school at Charlottenburg asked him if the boy who had taken the prize was his brother. He looked up with surprise, and blushing, said, "It is myself, Herr Chaplain." The priest was astounded at this, and said, "Herr Thorwaldsen, please to pass up to the first class."

The boy was amazed at these honors, and from this day retained the title of "Herr," which gave him much distinction. When, after many years, the sculptor had been loaded with honors, and stood on the heights of fame, he was accustomed to say that no glory had ever been so sweet to him as that first rapture which came from the words of the Chaplain Höyer when he was seventeen years old and a poor school-boy.

The effect of this first prize seemed to be to rouse his ambition, and he worked with the greatest diligence and earnestness. Two years later he made a bas-relief of Love in Repose, which took the large silver medal. His father now thought him prepared to enter on the life of a ship's carver, and Bertel made no objection to doing so; but the painter Abildgaard, who had been his teacher in the academy, had grown very fond of him, and saw how much talent he had, and could not think of his being but a common tradesman without deep regret. He went, therefore, to the old carver, and after some difficulty obtained his consent that his son should spend half his time in study at the academy, and the other half in the earning of his daily bread at his father's side.

In 1790, when twenty years old, Thorwaldsen made a medallion of the Princess of Denmark, which was so good a likeness that a number of copies was sold. A year later he gained the small gold medal of the academy by a bas-relief of the Expulsion of Heliodorus from the Temple. The Minister of State now became interested in the young artist, and measures were taken to aid him to go on with his studies. His patrons desired him to study the subjects of the antique sculptures, and he chose that of Priam begging the Body of Hector from Achilles. Later in life he repeated this subject, and it is interesting to notice the strength and grandeur of the second when compared with the weakness of the first. And yet it was from the latter that predictions were made of Thorwaldsen's future greatness. In 1793 he gained the prize which entitled him to travel and study three years at the expense of the academy. The work he presented was a bas-relief of Saint Peter healing the Paralytic. In these works this sculptor already showed two qualities which remained the same through his life; in his subjects from antiquity he showed a Greek spirit, which has led some writers to speak of him as a "posthumous Greek," or a true Greek artist born after other Greek artists had died; on the other hand, when he treated religious subjects his spirit was like that of the best masters of the Renaissance, and these works remind us of Raphael. All this excellence came entirely from his artistic nature, for outside of that he was ignorant; he knew nothing of history or literature, and was never a man of culture as long as he lived. Outside of the work connected with his profession Thorwaldsen was indolent, and only acquired knowledge of other matters through observation or from the conversation of others.

Although he gained the prize which allowed him to travel in 1793, he did not leave Copenhagen until May, 1796. In the mean time he had done what he could to earn something: he had made designs for book-publishers, given lessons in drawing and modelling, and made some bust and medallion portraits, reliefs, and so on. The vessel in which the young sculptor sailed for Naples was called the Thetis, and the captain engaged to watch over him; the voyage was long, and all on board became fond of Thorwaldsen, though the captain wrote, "He is an honest boy, but a lazy rascal." This opinion is very amusing when we know what an enormous amount of labor he performed. At Naples he remained for some time, and saw and admired all its works of art. He did not reach Rome until about nine months after leaving Copenhagen, but from that time his whole thought and life were changed. He was accustomed to say, "I was born on the 8th of March, 1797; before then I did not exist."

While in Naples Thorwaldsen had been ill, and suffered from a malarial affection, which compelled him to be idle much of the time. But he was always studying the antique statues, and made many copies. Some of the first original works which he attempted were failures, when, at last, he modelled a colossal statue of Jason, which was well received by those who saw it, and made him somewhat famous in Rome (Fig. 118). Canova praised it, and other critics did the same; but Thorwaldsen had no money; the academy had supported him six years; what could he do? Quite discouraged, he was engaged in his preparations for leaving Rome, when Mr. Thomas Hope, the English banker, gave him an order for the Jason in marble. In an hour his life was changed. He was living in Rome not as a student on charity, but as an artist gaining his living. We are forced to add that Mr. Hope did not receive this statue until 1828, and Thorwaldsen has been much blamed for his apparent ingratitude; but we cannot here give all the details of the unfortunate affair.