y does not essay. It is in quite a different sphere. Its
exaltation is, if not deliberate, admirably self-possessed. To find it
theatrical would be simply a mark of our absurd Anglo-Saxon preference
for reserve and repression in circumstances naturally suggesting
expansion and elation--a preference surely born of timorousness and
essentially very subtly theatrical itself. It is simply not deeply,
intensely poetic, but, rather, a splendid piece of rhetoric, as I say.

So, too, is the famous Mirabeau relief, which is perhaps M. Dalou's
masterpiece, and which represents his national side as completely as the
group for the Place des Nations does those of his qualities I have
endeavored to indicate by calling them Venetian. Observe the rare
fidelity which has contributed its weight of sincerity to this admirable
relief. Every prominent head of the many members of the Assembly, who
nevertheless rally behind Mirabeau with a fine pell-mell freedom of
artistic effect, is a portrait. The effect is like that of similar works
designed and executed with the large leisure of an age very different
from the competition and struggling hurry of our own. In every respect
this work is as French as it is individual. It is penetrated with a
sense of the dignity of French history. It is as far as possible removed
from the cheap _genre_ effect such a scheme in less skilful hands might
easily have had. Mirabeau's gesture, in fact his entire presence, is
superb, but the marquis is as fine in his way as the tribune in his. The
beholder assists at the climax of a great crisis, unfolded to him in the
impartial spirit of true art, quite without partisanship, and though
manifestly stimulated by sympathy with the nobler cause, even more
acutely conscious of the grandeur of the struggle and the distinction of
those on all sides engaged in it, and acquiring from these a kind of
elation, of exaltation such as the Frenchman experiences only when he
may give expression to his artistic and his patriotic instincts at the
same moment.

The distinctly national qualities of this masterpiece, and their
harmonious association with the individual characteristics of M. Dalou,
his love of nature, his native distinction, his charm, and his power, in
themselves bear eminent witness to the vitality of modern French
sculpture, in spite of all the influences which tend to petrify it with
system and convention. M. Rodin stands so wholly apart that it would be
unsafe perh