im, as it were, that great
master's successor. Towards him and Thorwaldsen, indeed, Gibson always
cherished a most filial regard. "May I not be proud," he writes long
after, "to have known such men, to have conversed with them, watched
all their proceedings, heard all their great sentiments on art? Is it
not a pleasure to be so deeply in their debt for instruction?" And now
the flood of visitors who used to flock to Canova's studio began to
transfer their interest to Gibson's. Commission after commission was
offered him, and he began to make money faster than he could use it.
His life had always been simple and frugal--the life of a working man
with high aims and grand ideals: he hardly knew now how to alter it.
People who did not understand Gibson used to say in his later days that
he loved money, because he made much and spent little. Those who knew
him better say rather that he worked much for the love of art, and
couldn't find much to do with his money when he had earned it. He was
singularly indifferent to gain; he cared not what he eat or drank; he
spent little on clothes, and nothing on entertainments; but he paid his
workmen liberally or even lavishly; he allowed one of his brothers more
than he ever spent upon himself, and he treated the other with uniform
kindness and generosity. The fact is, Gibson didn't understand money,
and when it poured in upon him in large sums, he simply left it in the
hands of friends, who paid him a very small percentage on it, and whom
he always regarded as being very kind to take care of the troublesome
stuff on his account. In matters of art, Gibson was a great master; in
matters of business, he was hardly more than a simple-minded child.

Sometimes queer incidents occurred at Gibson's studio from the curious
ignorance of our countrymen generally on the subject of art. One day,
a distinguished and wealthy Welsh gentleman called on the sculptor, and
said that, as a fellow Welshman, he was anxious to give him a
commission. As he spoke, he cast an admiring eye on Gibson's group of
Psyche borne by the Winds. Gibson was pleased with his admiration, but
rather taken aback when the old gentleman said blandly, "If you were to
take away the Psyche and put a dial in the place, it'd make a capital
design for a clock." Much later, the first Duke of Wellington called
upon him at Rome and ordered a statue of Pandora, in an attitude which
he described. Gibson at once saw that the Duke'