was delighted, and ran over at once to tell
Canova, thinking he had done a splendid stroke of business. Canova
shared his pleasure, till the young man came to the price; then the
older sculptor's face fell ominously. "Five hundred pounds!" he cried
in dismay; "why, it won't cover the cost of marble and workmanship."
And so indeed it turned out; for when the work was finished, it had
stood Gibson in 520 pounds for marble and expenses, and left him twenty
pounds out of pocket in the end. So he got less than nothing after all
for his many months of thought and labour over clay and marble alike.

Discouraging as this beginning must have proved, it was nevertheless in
reality the first important step in a splendid and successful career.
It is something to have sold your first statue, even if you sell it at
a disadvantage. In 1821 Gibson modelled a group of Pysche and the
Zephyrs. That winter Sir George Beaumont, himself a distinguished
amateur artist, and a great patron of art, came to Rome; and Canova
sent him to see the young Welshman's new composition. Sir George asked
the price, and Gibson, this time more cautious, asked for time to
prepare an estimate, and finally named 700 pounds. To his joy, Sir
George immediately ordered it, and also introduced many wealthy
connoisseurs to the rising sculptor's studio. That same winter, also,
the Duke of Devonshire came again, and commissioned a bas-relief in
marble (which is now at Chatsworth House, with many other of Gibson's
works), at a paying price, too, which was a great point for the young
man's scanty exchequer.

Unfortunately, Gibson has not left us any notice of how he managed to
make both ends meet during this long adult student period at Rome.
Information on that point would indeed be very interesting; but so
absorbed was the eager Welshman always in his art, that he seldom tells
us anything at all about such mere practical every-day matters as bread
and butter. To say the truth, he cared but little about them.
Probably he had lived in a very simple penurious style during his whole
studenthood, taking his meals at a cafe or eating-house, and centering
all his affection and ideas upon his beloved studio. But now wealth
and fame began to crowd in upon him, almost without the seeking.
Visitors to Rome began to frequent the Welshman's rooms, and the death
of "the great and good Canova," which occurred in 1822, while depriving
Gibson of a dearly loved friend, left h